Headache sore back

I was prescribed antibiotics for a strong UTI, and about two weeks later me and my fiance had sex he went in dry which is why I assumed the next morning when I was sore it was from him. But next thing you know I realize I have a yeast infection. Mind you I work 10-12hr shifts 5 days a week and have two kids so taking care of myself comes few and far between. So I notice the infection and I acknowledge I need to get monistat but being so busy I hadn’t had the chance until one morning I get home from work shower go to lay down and I can’t breathe it itches and burns so bad and I mean I literally can not breathe. So I jump up and go to the store and get the monistat 3day. I use the first dose and go to bed as you are supposed to I woke up with yeast and medicine covering my vagina. I get very little relief so the next night I use the 2nd dose and when I woke up my vagina was swollen red puffy and worse than before almost come to find out the monistat burned my vagina and that has never happened to me before in my life. So I reach out to my doctor desperate for relief at this point and she prescribes two doses of fluconazle and they are to be taken three days apart. I take the first dose and I was still itchy and irritated significantly until day three. Day three I noticed I could breathe I could sit in different positions but I was still itchy and sore and leaking now a more milky than cottage cheese discharge. I take the next dose and the itching and burning and swelling and everything reduces SIGNIFICANTLY about 24 hours after taking the second dose. BUT here I am 6 days after the second dose and I still have this discharge and a soreness which is to be expected with such a violent infection and chemical burn. But my concern is how much longer should I expect this discharge. It’s much less than it was but it is still here. And I just want my vagina back at this point it’s embarrassing and uncomfortable.

Hi all. I'm 33, and I've had these red marks on the back of my leg for as long as I remember - at least 30 years. I want to know what it is! It's usually fairly pale (as seen in one photo), but once rubbed against clothing or in the sun it will go bright red as seen in the photos. It can feel a little tendesore, but only when aggravated. I don't believe it can be cleared up? Thank you!

If you are struggling with Step 1, trust me, I understand you. I am not a strong test taker and I struggle with testing anxiety. Having to go through this exam 3 times nearly broke me. If you passed, congratulations, I'm so relieved and happy for you! If you failed, I know how you feel and I hope my story can motivate you because you are an amazing and capable. If you are studying and stressing out, please keep your head up because if I can pull through this, you definitely can.
My story summarized:
I took 2 months of step 1 dedicated last year and saw on reddit that people would pass with low 60s on NBMEs. I thought to take it once I hit a 62 on NBME and a 60+ on Free 120 (my school would not let me push it back any further). I came out of that test shattered as it did not feel like anything I've ever taken before; the question STEMs were long and I was constantly running out of time. After my initial F, I tried to retake it immediately, ~5 weeks after my first attempt so that I could quickly get back on track with school. I hired a tutor and started Bootcamp. I thought I just needed to show consistency so I got 62 and a 67 on two NBMEs. I went into that test feeling so confident and felt great after the test; the question stems were short & sweet and I didn't have a time issue. I was confident that I passed. When I received that second F, I cannot truly describe that feeling but I wouldn't hope it for anyone. I had to take a year off on LOA to fix my depression and anxiety disorder that resulted from this traumatic experience.
I started truly studying for this exam in January of this year and took the exam 4/19. I told myself that I would not sit for this exam again until I've scored in the 70+ consistently on NBMEs and fixed my confidence. This was my last chance taking the step 1 exam as a third failure results in dismissal from my school. I think that added pressure on top of my testing anxiety was something that took ALOT of time with counseling and self reflection/growth to heal from. My initial date was 4/10 but I was having extreme physical pain that week and my practice score dropped from 78 to 60, so I, not wanting to repeated my mistake in the past, extended my LOA so I could take the exam 4/19. I took another practice exam to make sure I was confident and got a 69%. It wasn't the 70+ I wanted but my counselor told me that I may never feel confident, but I have been meeting my score goals consistently and having prepared for this exam for, essentially a year now, I did not want to burn out so I took the exam. Here are my stats this time: 4/15/24: 69% (Form 29), 4/7/24: 60% (Form 28), 4/4/24: 78% (Form 26), 3/15/24: 74% (Form 30), 2/29/24: 69% (Form 31), 2/15/24: 65% (Form 25), 2/1/24: 66% (Form 27).
I can honestly say I feel like I truly understand the material and am able to think about things clinically, which is something I could not have said for my first two attempts.
To note, I don't think everyone needs 70+ on NBMEs to pass, but if you have testing anxiety, tend to struggle with timed tests, have ADD, or easily get shaken from a "bad section," then you should aim for 70+ (timed, and as close to the exam environment as possible) to be able to sit for the real thing. Cudos to those who did it without but I think that not having 3+ NBMEs >65% is a risk. Look at me, I took those risks and failed twice before. I don't want that for you.
Prior to and Exam day:
I visited the testing center twice before my test date to familiarize myself with it. I checked out the bathrooms and saw the common area. This test was also and mental and emotion task for me, so knowing my environment was important.
I studied the day before because I am just not the type to take a day off before the exam - my anxiety could not let me just rest. I slept maybe 4 hours (don't recommend it but I don't usually sleep before big events so 4 was good for me). I had my partner drive me so I could just decompress in the car and did not have an appetite but forced myself to eat a banana. I took an ibuprofen as I knew I tend to get stress headaches/cramps along the test, which usually really affected me.
The first section was terrible (wanted to just fight the computer screen) but I lied to myself that it was gonna be one of my best sections so I am not gonna worry about it. I took each section like its own thing, not letting the previous affect me. I realized that timing was not as forgiving on this as NBMEs so I made myself go through all the questions so that I could have 5 minutes to check unanswered or marked ones. I think I marked 18 in 3 sections (which was freaky) but again, told myself not to worry about them. Overall, 3 sections felt terrible and the rest felt okay to meh. I calmed myself down because I told myself that I've seen thousands of step 1 questions at this point as I've completed Uworld Qbank, Amboss Qbank, all available online NBMEs, free 120, and taken this exam twice); I think this reassurance made a huge difference in not allowing my testing anxiety to affect me. Trust me, it wasn't smooth sailing though and I think adrenaline carried me through this test.
I did not know how to feel after my exam as it didn't feel as difficult as my first attempt but not as "easy" as my second attempt. However, my 6 NBMEs were 65-78% (with the exception of 1 at 60%) this time, so I just told myself to trust my score. I knew I missed a handful of easy ones but also felt reassured when I looked up the ones I guessed and saw that I had guessed most of them correctly.
Waiting 4 weeks for my score was torture. I prayed, cried, distracted myself with video games, and spent time with friends.
Overall I am so happy to finally move on with my life bc it felt like limbo for the past year. If you want to hear what worked for me the third time around, you can read more below.
What didn't work for me:

• I have never learned well with textbooks. I don't know why I thought using First-Aid as the foundation of my study prep was a good idea. I was also trying to do thousands of Anki when I was always struggling to keep up with ANKI in med school. You know what works for you as you've studied all your life to get to this point in medical school. FA/Anki might be the holy grail for some people but if that's not your learning style or how you learn best, use other options!
• I took tests on my laptop at home for my first two attempts. You might not know it, but you may be a little too comfortable so try to go to a library where there are desktop computers and simulate the real deal.

What did work for me:

• Bootcamp and Uworld! I am a visual learning and Bootcamp videos/short quizzes really helped me ground my foundation in. However, it was unsuspending the Uworld Q's associated with the Bootcamp topic to see if I really understood the lecture material was what made a difference. I kept a spreadsheet of the Bootcamp topic completion, its associated UWorld Qbank completion, and the percentage right. Anything under 50% was a fail, 60-69% was border, and 70% was pass. I would redo my failed sections and take extra time to review my border sections. Another option for qbank is Amboss.
• Mehlman PDFs. Please, please review Mehlman's HY PDFs. This is the single document that boosted my score to 70+. I did it 4x over (1 to get through it, 2 to redo the wrong ones, 3 to redo it all Qs the week before the test, and 4 to redo the wrong ones on the second attempt). I did his biochem sections and his biostats questions the week before the exam, which was a big help. I heard his risk factor PDFs were good, but I didn't have time to do that.
• NBMEs, use them as a resource! I would see the same topics come up again and again for each NBME. I know their explanation sucks but try to just understand what topic/concept they are trying to get you to know. Some people say this inflates your score but familiarizing yourself with HY topics that get tested time and time again is studying smart. I made Quizlet flashcards on each question I got wrong from forms 25-31 and Free 120. Yeah, I used quizlet bc I hated Anki and seeing Anki demoralized me, so I had to use a different flashcard medium. Quizlet actually has an AI feature to ask you questions and give explanations based on your flashcards, and I think this is pretty cool.
• For Micro and Pharm, I used Sketchy.

If you have any questions or need moral support, feel free to DM me. I'm done with step 1, and I'll see you on the other side!

Continued from part one.
In the mirror I saw a figure of the darkness next to the foot of my bed. I screamed, only for the figure to dash back inside my closet and close the doors behind it. To the naked eye, the doors seemed to roll back on their own, but because of the many mirrors inside my room, I could see the shadowy figure.
“What’s wrong?” my mom burst into my room not even four seconds later.
“J-j-just a nightmare?” I was uncertain if my imagination was too strong for my own good so I held back on the truth.
I wish I told her the truth. That wasn’t the last time I would see the figure in the mirror.
It happened again, about five years later. Yeah it didn’t happen right away. I wondered if the figure I saw was friendly and I simply scared it away for a while. That was my first mindset, but then I second guessed myself and simply thought maybe it was just my imagination playing with me.
At age 12, things started to become rocky with my parents. They fought over the same things, but they also fought over me. I had gone into the world of music to the point where I wanted to take up guitar, piano, and violin. My mom took one side of the stance where she didn’t believe that I could commit to any of them. My dad believed the opposite, fighting that I could do anything if I set my mind to it.
Again, conflict resided. My angry mother could still barge into my room if I didn’t lock the doors. She once found me writing, insisted on me showing her what I wrote, when I resisted she pulled it away from me and read my vampire fanfiction.
I was an angsty girl. Hence my writings were a bit suggestive at the time. My mom and my dad both read my work. My dad actually liked what I wrote aside from the fact it was about the supernatural. Of course, my mother again got mad since she’s the most religious in our family. She was, in a sense, a heretic.
Needless to say, since my family’s religion absolutely detests “spiritualistic and demonic” media, I got grounded. Also to clarify, yes this also meant I never read or watched the Harry Potter series, including the Twilight series. Although I don’t think I missed out on much with the Twilight series lol. Eventually I managed to rent a book that I got from my school’s library, called Hush, Hush, which laid in my backpack, tempting me to read it.
So there I was, no laptop and in my room. I didn’t really care since I had a guitar and a notebook. I still could find pleasure outside of my laptop, which of course my mother absolutely detested as well. Whenever she grounded me, she used to take away any kind of toy. Then, once she realized I could read on my own and was making up stories when I couldn’t read, she began to take books away. Punishments with my family wasn’t really a punishment, I could always find a way to entertain myself. Even if she took my notebooks away, I’d still end up daydreaming about something, even act out scenes I’d come up with in my head.
Now you can understand why I pushed off the incident with the figure in the mirror as a figment of my imagination. I had figured it was a draft, that the wheels and tracking were well lubricated with some kind of oil that makes it hard for them to stay in place.
Sitting on my bed at age 12, I leant back and closed my eyes. I had notebooks, several books, a keyboard for me to practice piano on, and a guitar. It wasn’t a big deal. (Yes I was a spoiled child. I’m owning up to this since I was the only girl among four boys- plus I was also 13 years younger than my youngest brother.) However I was so tired, that I decided on lazily daydreaming. Besides, I could always sneak my laptop back late at night.
As a devoted writer, I continued on imagining the story I began. I imagined what it would feel like to have fangs teasing the throat of the neck, how it would be to be kissed and then bitten by a vampire... my mind was rolling and it didn’t stop. I was a twelve year old girl going through puberty.
I told myself to stop and I decided to pull out the book, smiling at my little success. I went back to the page I left off on at the library earlier that day. I buried myself into the book and became sleepy. I nearly finished the book by the time I set the book aside and stupidly put it on my bedside table.
I passed out soon after. I don’t recall what kind of dream I had at first, all I know is that sometime later in the night, I woke up again, but I could not move my body at all. I looked around my room, which was now fully dark. I barely could recognize anything around me. The familiar outline of my vanity was gone, any silver reflection was gone, I did not see a single mirror, so I knew I was no longer in my room anymore.
A slight humming noise was around me, the room I was in lit up with a red flashing light. It felt like I was being pinned down by some kind of restraint system, so I looked down and noticed these short pale creatures crawling on top of me, towards my face. I felt a sharp sting in my leg, and I knew one of the creatures had bit me already.
It became to feel like sharp knives stabbing me all over my body, until five creatures met my face, their eyes sullen- beady- staring down at me with bloodied mouths and lunged at my neck, causing me to scream..The sound finally piercing through and I could hear myself breathing again, I could hear my screams and my frantic prayers escaping my lips.
Had my mom not come into my room and slapped me on my face, jolting me out of it- whatever it was- I would have seen more than I could bare. She saw the book and her anger brewed even more at me.
“Are you tempting the demons to attack you or something?” she fumed and took the book off of the table. She led me down to the entryway and opened the garage door. “Put it in there.”
I followed her command and put the book into the garage. I knew it wasn’t the book’s fault, but it was associated with “demunz” in her eyes, so I didn’t dare argue against her.
“Do you want to die? If you keep associating with demons, you know god will never forgive you. You won’t inherit everlasting life, only everlasting death. You know that right?!?” she yelled at me, had my dad been there that night- he would have stopped her from going that far. I suddenly missed him.
Her anger then died down after she ranted at me, once she recognized that I was still petrified. She at least brought me to, which made me thankful, but I also felt betrayed. She was supposed to protect me, but all she cared about was the idea of force feeding me her belief system. All she cared about was telling me I was wrong.
“I’m-” she had begun, and I just looked away from her and saw a shadow in my mirror again, standing behind my mom. It didn’t feel as eerie anymore. It felt almost comforting to see it, it moved from my mom to me. A figure of it’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, and I felt the cool breeze raise goosebumps at it’s touch.
“Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?” her voice lowered.
“I’ll sleep alone,” I remarked, still stung with the hurt from her hurtful remark.
She looked hurt for a second, but then returned to her normal frown. “I’ll sleep in the little entertainment room next to you, if you need me just yell out again.”
“Fine,” I simply just pulled my blankets over me again, waited for her to leave, then cried into my pillow.
My mom left, not seeing the dark figure in the mirror and went into the adjacent room. At her departure, the darkness came into my bed, the eerie feeling no longer there and it snuggled against me.
Shh. It hushed me and brushed my hair.
I didn’t question it. I had been afraid of it for so long, but with the sweet affection it gave me- the affection I desired and longed for from both of my parents.
The falling tears turned into a silent sob, my body shook against the bed, little breathy whimpers muffled by my pillow.
Shh, it repeated until I fell asleep again.
When morning came, I woke up with a sore neck and I was irritated with my mom. I remembered what happened and then I snuck out to my laptop and searched up what had happened to me. I learned it was sleep paralysis and figured maybe my imagination went too far with the vampire thing. I was stiff, my body was so sore and I saw my closet doors closed.
Again, I had felt as if my imagination had made it up. I knew the kind of comfort it gave me is what I desperately longed for. It gave me what my family didn’t, and I hated myself. I thought it was a figment of my imagination since it knew all the things I wanted. That is, until something else showed up. The shadow figure in the mirrors was just the start of it all.

So... I just had my first TC seizure yesterday in the middle of the night... I have been having partial/focal seizures for going on 6 years, but had been clear for the last 3 years apart from the last week or so. I think in retrospect them starting back up was a warning sign..
I scared the crap out of my husband... he woke up to it, and recons it went on for 5-10 minutes, he called an ambulance... afterwards I apparently got up and went to the toilet (he had to pull my pyjama bottoms off) then I walked downstairs, went to the downstairs bathroom too, then sat on the sofa??? The first thing I remember is being sat on the sofa with him on the phone to the ambulance...
I bit down on my tounge, very hard in the fit. He said there was blood pouring from my mouth...
Next day now, feeling a bit better in myself, but my tounge is so incredibly sore and swolen from when I had bitten down on it so hard.. anyone have any fixes?

our gal has sore raw patches on the back of her back legs, we're taking her to the vet but in the meantime does anyone know what may be going on? she's not licking them or anything and she doesn't seem bothered by it at all.

20 Female
i have been experiencing blood when wiping after pee/poop but i am confused where is the blood coming from since there is no traces of blood in my urine or stool but only when wiping.
I suspected it from my vagina area because it feel sore once i touch/rub it in the middle so i thought maybe it is irritated, and also notice blood when wiping after peeing and once had bleeding during sexual intercourse
I also suspected it from my anus area because when i first notice this sympyom, it was after i poop then when i wipe there is blood in my wipes and I feel like there is fluid or watery feeling betwen my butt cheeks even after wiping them off
I had no pain with my abdominal area tho and no other green/white/yellow discharge aside from I can see the blood in my undergarments
I am confused if the blood is due to hemorrhoids or some vaginal issues since I could feel a flow sometimes
note: around this month i have a feeling of urging to pee whenever after pooping or usually in the morning after the very first pee like i would come back atleast 3-5 times to pee for very small amount but after that scenario the urge to pee will just go away and went back to normal. Could this be a sign of UTI?
ever since around 2021, i also experienced some odor whenever after peeing but i thought maybe just because of the wet underwear after washing the vagina since it will just go away whenever i wear new/dry underwear. Could this be also a sign of untreated BV that may lead to UTI now?
what type of doctor should i see first?

Here is one for you all and its a long one. 44M here, been with my significant other for ~20 years, married for 11 years. At this point I don't feel like we are going to make it much longer. I don't think she wants to be with me anymore but needs me for financial support so she is trying to string me along.
Background:
I want to say right off that I know I am not perfect, have never pretended to be nor have I overlooked my shortcomings and have done everything I can to address and deal with my issues.At first things were good. We did things together, went out, hung out with friends together, bowled leagues together, had a lot of fun. We also had a good, sex life. We were having cuddling times, regular sex, great foreplay, she was pretty open to positions and trying things.
When we first got together she was working miscellaneous retail jobs. She had a 4 year college degree at this point as well but never even tried to find a job utilizing it. I was fine with her working whatever made her happy. I work in IT/Tech. I have always been the higher earner, making almost double her salary up until a couple years ago. I never once said anything about this, never gave her crap for making less or the job she worked. I only encouraged her to find a job she enjoyed. I went years, never saying anything that might hurt her, even when I was working 50-60+ hours of work in a tough field at a job I hated while she worked maybe 20-30 hours a week in a super easy job of her choosing. After about 10 years of us being together she finally decided to go back to school for computer science. To support her doing this we lived in a couple places and worked jobs I absolutely hated to make sure she could finish school without any pressure. Again, I never said anything to her about this, I did it so she could be happy. She ended up finishing and getting an extremely good paying tech job after a few years, around the time that I noticed the biggest changes about her. Prior to her latest job and changes, we were OK for a few years. We starting doing well together as we were both earning well and have no kids.
Start of problems:
After we were married for a few years she started changing. She stopped wanting to do things together, we went out less and less. Stopped watching shows and movies together, stopped gaming together. She started treating sex like a burden, made me feel bad for even trying to initiate it. She became more of a prude, stopped wanting to do almost anything sexual, stopped wanting cuddling/petting, lost almost all interest in foreplay that wasn't directly for her, she lost all interest in any type of intimacy, cuddling, foreplay, or really anything that isn't about her getting off.
I feel that I have been extremely patient over the years about all of this. She has some back issues (self inflicted, she was having soreness and pain but continued a workout regimen that was obviously not right and causing issues. I have tried to be understanding and accommodating since she had these issues. Sex was never really a big issue, even with the back problems we had a decent sex life until the last 5 or so years. She started wanting to do less and it really felt like she was just trying to get it over with (outside of when I was pleasuring her and getting her off. Once that was done it was like hurry up and finish.
More recently, last couple of years she has had 0 interest in sex or even anything physical. I mean I can barely kiss her, cant touch her at all without some excuse that it tickles or some other BS. No cuddling as she says I always pressure for sex, BS, I love foreplay and am happy with mutual getting off. I have mentioned the lack of intimacy, mentioning that is had been months since we did anything and it is always some excuse or a suggestion it may happen this weekend (going on 20+ " this weekend" without anything) . She has almost every excuse in the book as to why she doesn't want to without really having a good reason. She will blame her back bugging her but will then do a lot of work that is physically punishing, especially to someone with back issues and despite the fact that I said I would do it or try to help. I have also gotten several different things to help, wedge pillow to help with her back, tried it once and had some random complaint that I forget. She had mentioned trying a swing so she could have support in different positions. I found several options and she then made excuses about all of them, the primary one being support for the swing. I eventually called her on this being BS when the new house we got had a chain mount in one of the bedrooms ( looked like it was possibly for a heavy punching bag) that would be perfect for a swing and I tested it holding my full weight. I again mentioned getting a swing to make things better to only get additional excuses.
Further Issues:
We had always talked about wanting to move back to California and get a house there when we had the chance. We had also talked about houses we would like and things like that. When we started seriously talking about getting a house, she said she would check with work ahead of time about being able to move to another state as we had discussed, she did not. I don't think she even talked to her boss about it. She just refused to move outside of this state as she said her job required her to be her even though her boss lives in a completely different country.
When the time actually came to find and buy a house it did not work out the way I guess I had expected. Eventually, we purchased a house here after several fights as she decided she wanted a cheaper house to fix up. Not even considering the amount of work and money it would take to do so. One of her "options" was a run down ranch house that had a surprise renter (9 months left on a lease) in a very obviously water damaged basement. She picked out this house so she continued to try to justify buying it for about 100k over what it should be sold for. After about a week of looking at shitty houses and fighting she finally agreed to look at one of the houses I had chosen, the house we eventually purchased. It was a bit more but had almost all of our wants without the need to fix it up.
For the purchase, she provided the down payment from her inheritance and jointly financed the house. Once the purchase was finished and we moved in she changed, a lot. Things became more about what she wanted, she would mention things to me but completely ignore any input and just talk like what she wanted is what I chose too. Her dad then decided to visit and this was the largest wake up call I think I have had. I saw him doing all of the things that she does that annoy and frustrate me. I then realized that if I stay with her, dealing with this is my future. He took over the house and she treated me like an asshole for just wanting a bit of space that I could have to myself. She refused to deal with him or reign in his behavior. I think it was around this time that I realized that it felt like I didn't even have a home even though we just bought one, that I was just a wallet to help pay bills.
We ended up having a fight about this and I ended up leaving and staying at a hotel for a few days. This is where it got really eye opening as I considered this fight as something we would think about and get over. However, the first thing she did was talk to her friend and then reach out to divorce lawyers. She mentioned that she was talking to them about post nuptials to make sure she got the house and money. This was a signal to me, that she did not consider nor seem to appreciate all of the years that I spent working jobs I hated to supplement our income and cover for her while she went back to school. All it seemed she saw was that she got money now so the house and all of it was hers. She made a comment about how she felt the money, stocks, and house were hers. She added that she wanted a post nuptial to define this so I shouldn't be surprised if I get one to sign. Unsurprisingly, she never actually got this done, never mentioned it more so I am assuming she just got lazy and never followed up. One thing that stood out to me was that she mentioned that she could not afford the house by herself. She rambled off several things about us just being roommates and me continuing to pay for the house and bills. She came up with something about me paying and her giving me money back later or something, I ignored most of it as it was dumb, I.E. me leaving my checks going into our shared account and continuing to pay like I have been but doing so knowing she plans on keeping the house and that I might get some money later if she ever sold it. She also made a comment that I did a good job with the stocks so I should keep doing that for her and she would give me like a 1k in a few years. Since I started working with the portfolio and diversified the stocks I have made over 40k in gains for it so yeah I ignored this as I felt like it was insulting. This whole fight and conversation hit me hard, especially after 15+ years of me working hard, shitty jobs, to provide for us just to get slapped in the face by greed.
We ended up talking a bit after that fight after I ended up stopping by the house. She had mentioned previously about going to marriage counseling. I told her I didn't think it would help with our situation considering what the issues were but if she was willing to go and actually participate, I would be too. We ended up seeing a marriage counselor as she had suggested it previously and I wanted to try everything to make this work. I had previously mentioned that I didn't think it would work as she refuses to open up or discuss her issues with anyone and if she wont do that, it is a moot point. She said she would so we found a counselor and we went for a couple of months. During this time I was very open about my thoughts and feelings and gave the counselor details on my issues. She however, did not provide anything ahead of time, participate much, would not open up, and eventually said that we might as well not go as she didn't feel like we were gaining anything.
Turning Point:
I think the f*ck it point, straw that broke the camels back for me is that about a month ago, around 10 months or so since we had any kind of intimacy we had a fight. During the fight she admitted that she actually masturbates fairly regularly which really, really pissed me off as she knows the lack of sex and any kinds of intimacy was a big issue for me and was causing a lot of frustration. I was quiet about it as what I would have said would have started a big fight. I am now struggling because I cant really get over the fact that she shows me no interest, wont let me touch her, we haven't had sex in months and she admits to masturbating instead of having sex with me when she knows I am extremely sexually frustrated. To me, this shows her lack of caring about me and shows that she only really cares about herself and what she wants. This is furthered by conversations with her family I have overheard because she talks super loud on the phone and I guess she didn't realize I could hear her in the other room. This last conversation was essentially her talking about the money again and additional money she may get when her dad passes. She made the comment to them that in hindsight she would have made me sign a prenup as all of the money she has gotten and will get belongs to their family and she wants to keep it in their family. This was another moment when I was like what the hell, I am not your family?
I am torn, I have been with her for a long time, I do care for her, but she shows no interest in being with me. No interest in a relationship, doesn't want to do things together (she even said that if I want her do more things with me I have to do things she wants to do first), nothing for how I feel, what I want, no cuddling, no touching, nothing. It came down to the fact that she essentially wants a roommate that pays for her to have the house, help with chores, and helps take care of the dogs without expecting anything in return. She does not seem to get how she is, care how I feel, what I want, or really care about anything that does not benefit her.
I am at my breaking point, I have tried for years to give her everything and now as thanks, I get nothing from her. I am getting to old to keep wasting time in a loveless, sexless relationship but am also having a hard time walking away from a relationship I have been in for so long. After writing this out I am also realizing, well more wondering, what the f*ck I am doing as it seems pretty obvious I am bailing water out of a sinking boat.

I’ve been on 30mg adderall and 40mg Prozac for like two and a half weeks. I noticed a bit over a week ago that it started making me shake and twitch like crazy. I feel like my whole body is vibrating my breathing too.
I took them today but later because I forgot I’m on them right now and I feel like I’m fucking fried. Autocorrect is saving my ass it takes so long to make my brain think something comprehensible. My breathing feels super shaky I have a splitting headache and the shakes of course. I can’t tell if my heart it beating fast or it’s my entire body vibrating but I think it’s fast. I had the headache earlier but I thought it was cuz I forgot to take the meds so I took then and it went away but came back. I felt like I was melting for a bit earlier too it’s 45F and I have two fans pointed right at me
Is this fine idk if I’m overthinking it and just haven’t adjusted or something and serotonin syndrome only happens in the first 24ish hours so I’m having issues.
Sorry if it’s written horribly i can’t think

recently, i had a conversation with my mom detailing what i wanted to be when i was older. ever since i was a child, i loved singing and dancing. not like i was humming in the womb, but singing was a great past time for me.
when i moved to london in 2022, i, according to my mom, fell in love with the idea of becoming a musician. for some reason, my childhood is overly blurry, but she told me back then i wasn't interested, and i was sorta confused because i'm sure i was. she said the idea of becoming a musician and singing and everything was not on my to-do list. it was weird because i don't recall ever telling her a career i wanted to look into back then. i think i assumed she knew i wanted to become a singer, but she didn't know? idk its confusing lol.
so anyways, after that i tried to occasionally sing and practice my voice. note: occasionally. i would, according to my entire family, sing for a few moments and stop singing (MOMENTS??) clear my throat, do that again, get mad and say "I'm never singing again." (which is obviously a lie.) for some reason, i was dead-set that i wanted to become a musician, but i also didn't put in the effort to becoming a singer.
now, even i know this, but i tend to pick-up and drop things easily, so i never really stuck to one thing. the reason is most likely because my parents were movers. even when we lived in dubai, we never stayed in one place. changing schools and houses more times than i can count. i think having this sort of lifestyle of not having to stick to one thing is affecting me as a person also. but thats a story for another day;
my point is that singing is one of the things that i picked up but i can't seem to drop. i think as i kept going and watching these people perform at concerts, work in studios, all of that it makes me want to become a musician even more! i tried my hand in acting at one point but that totally backfired. so its just on singing again. in fact, i tried so many things and i decided i was good at nothing so singing was my only option.
now, don't get me wrong my family is well off, so i can afford school, college, university and the works, but i still feel like i'm not good at anything besides singing. im going to grade 12 next (school) year, so i don't have lots of time to think about this, yet i feel like everything will just work itself out.
now, to my actual question; do i like singing, or do i hate it? and if i hate singing, why do i hate it?
so, my first reason that comes to mind on why i hate singing is my voice. now, i've had no shortage of compliments from my family telling me i'm a great singer. (well, maybe a little shortage. and my dad has never told me i'm a great singer. apparently i've never sung in front of him before.) but, also from strangers. before the winter holidays in 2022, my school held a winter concert and i had a solo in there. my music teacher who's also the choir teacher, gave me the solo, telling me i had a great voice and potential. the day came and i felt i completely blew it, but people were pulling me left, right and center to tell me i had a lovely voice. might've been just curtesy, but it was very sweet of them.
so i have no genuine idea why i hate my voice, but it just feels so flat and bad. i can't hold a note more than 4 seconds, my breath control sucks, i can't mold my voice into something, and my voice is raspy. i could keep going. it doesn't sound like sabrina carpenter, ariana grande, whitney. someone told me it sounded like maria once, but i'm calling bullshit. and most importantly when i sing, my neck hurts or i get a splitting headache.
now, second reason i came up with is that, like my mother said, its a chore. she told me i only sing to practice, i don't sing because i like the melody songs create. i don't sing because i love it. i sing because it feels like it's already a job for me, and as if i'm about to make money from it. i tried to deny this, but i think it's true. when i sing, i don't sing like i'm trying to enjoy the song, i feel like i'm trying to monitor my voice and what it sounds like.
when i practice and i cut myself short, it's not because my voice hurts or i'm tired of singing, it's because i don't like how i sound, which makes me think: am i enjoying the song at all? obviously to get better at singing, i have to practice, its a must. but i don't often sing because i like a song, i sing them as a form of work. now, i thought this would all be easily avoidable if i just went to singing classes, because now i can focus on practicing there and enjoying singing out here. but i've always been of the "if i had this, it would be better" mentality. and in this case, i might even be right! but my mom asked "why would i pay money for something you don't even like", and maybe she's right and it is a waste.
maybe i hate singing because i'm bad at it but i'm starting to feel like this is my only option.
but that was until last year when i fell in love with gaming. game development particularly.
now i've always been a fan of gaming; not like the fortnite, COD, GTA and other games of the sort, but more like resident evil, roblox, the last of us type games, but then i fell even more in love with learning how to make them. now this is a whole big story and another story for another day, but basically, i now feel like game development is something i would be really interested in taking in university. but that didn't make me want to stop singing and trying to make music so... maybe the second point is invalid. but i don't know.
recently, i've been taking more effort to practice my singing and improve my voice. i sing daily now, for a significant amount of time. i've been seeing some progress actually. my sister told me that i've always been improving, but it's not the little improvements i see. its the big one. she's in 6th grade... 😭
anyways, thats all i know about this entire thing. its making me really sad and unhappy writing this entire thing. i thought i had everything figured out about this, but this whole "you hate singing" thing is doing my head in. i just wanna dance and make music :(
what do you guys think?

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
Archive

just had the scariest experience I’ve ever had. I’m 26 and have always had “tough” periods- severe back pain, cramping, headaches, nausea, diarrhea, etc.
Tonight, however, I woke in the middle of the night with cramps. It was the worst I’ve had as far as I remember. I got up, tried to go to the bathroom, broke out into a sweat that was so bad that I had to immediately put my hair up and take my clothes off. The sweating was parallel to the physical pain from cramping. The nausea was almost unbelievable, and I kept getting lightheaded and felt the potential of passing out. I couldn’t figure out if I needed to have a bowel movement or vomit, and I couldn’t hardly stand, and the sweating just kept happening while I felt so lightheaded.
My mom swears by magnesium spray and had given me some that happened to be nearby… I sprayed it on my pelvic area in a desperate attempt for some relief… not sure if it helped or if it was by convenience that I started to be grounded again ?
I am still cramping, just not as severe. The above episode came on so quickly. Is this a common experience? What could this be? What helps? I am a little scared from this experience.

Had two bottom teeth out and on day 8.
Pretty much had no pain since the op, a slight headache a few hours after rhem coming out. And two days later very sore muscles but put that down do being moved about etc
Today and a bit of yesterday had a very faint headache. Jaw where teeth came out isn’t really sore but find my teeth above slightly - but not sure why as it wad the bottom ones I had our. Not majorly sore just dull ache
Is this anything to worry about? It’s not excruciating or stopping me doing stuff so assume not dry socket - just more annoying than anything and even tho not ultra painful would be nice if it went r away!!!
Been on soft food until a day or so ago and started easing onto chewing more

My boyfriend and I never had sex. He didn't put it inside of me, he didn't even came outside my v*****. All he did was an attempt (it didn't really went inside) and rubbing it outside. Also, he spilled it on my stomach and it dripped down to my v part but I'm not really sure if his liquid went inside. I googled it and it says that it's possible to get pregnant with just that and it got me really anxious.
I got my period on April 8-11 then the last period is May 4-6, 2024 but I am bothered because it only lasted 3 days and a bit lighter than usual. My usual period is 4 days. After my period, I've been experiencing pregnancy symptoms like soreness/tenderness of breasts, lower back pain/lower abdominal pain, nausea and head ache. I'm worried that my last period this May could be an implantation bleeding and not really a period. Am I pregnant or I'm just overthinking?

TW
Yesterday (8dp5dt) was my first beta day! It came back 56, is it too low?
It's the first time that I get to this point after 4 years of TTC/IVF. I'm very scared because in the last few days I got positive tests that were getting darker (Mom-med type), but yesterday morning the line was fainter than the day before. Also it seems like my sore boobs are getting less sore and my bloated stomach less bloated, but maybe it's the stims/trigger medication effect ending? I haven't tested again today because I've decided to test every other day to possibly reduce stress.
What makes everything more difficult is that I can't repeat betas in 48h (Saturday) because I'm off to visit my family this weekend, and my clinic wants that I do beta always in the same laboratory. I can't repeat them on Monday either because it's a bank holiday, so I will have to wait until Tuesday 21st (13dp5dt). It feels like an eternity...
My SIL (8y younger than me) also announced her pregnancy to the whole family today. My grandmother made me feel like I'm a disappointment for my family, since I'm the oldest of my siblings/cousins, and i could hardly tolerate my mom's sad eyes... I'm devastated inside but had to look happy.
It's a very hard moment, I haven't told anybody from my family about going through IVF, and the timing here is especially horrible. I'm still PUPO but the beta hell is still very long ahead, and I'm having a lot of negative thoughts...
Any comforting word or advice for me? I need hugs 🥺

I'm UK based so this is from an NHS perspective
I thought I'd write a post to hopefully help a few people out if they are feeling nervous about surgery. This is my personal experience and everyone's will be different obviously, but I thought I'd share.
Had my surgery yesterday (May 16th) but I hadn't slept a wink. I was utterly terrified of what lay ahead. Aside from the one gallbladder attack on the 22nd of April I had no further issues. I lay there thinking if I was doing the right thing, going to butcher myself from a one off occurrence. I got up and showered at 6am, packed my Grogu dressing gown and my slippers and slowly made my way downstairs. My husband sat on the sofa, telling me he'd got up early to see me off. He was feeling guilty because he would be unable to come with me because he gets very anxious travelling to far. I shared my fears with him and he just sat with me and cuddled me and told me I was doing the right thing because he'd been misdiagnosed when he was younger and went 18 months suffering from debilitating Gallbladder attacks and he didn't want to see the same thing to potentially happen to me.
I drank my last glass of water at 6:30am before crying as I ordered the Uber at 7:00am to take me on the 11 mile journey out to the hospital in a town I'd never been to before. Every second resisting the very real urge to tell the driver to turn round. I got to the hospital at 7:32 and obviously went into the wrong building at first. But one of the very helpful ladies on the desk pointed me in the right direction and even offered to walk me part way so I could find it. I said I would be OK. I made my way round to the Day Surgery building only to find a queue at the reception desk.. Giving me even more opportunity to run screaming out of the door. But I thought of my husband's words and I stayed there. Gave my name and plonked myself in the reception area, trying to distract myself with my phone.
Around 20 minutes later I was called through to have my first discussion with a member of the surgical team. The nurse taking me through could see I was obviously getting upset, so she gave me quick hug and reassured me I'd be OK. I sat with the surgical team member who went over everything they were planning. He had my notes and could see that aside from the Gallstones I was otherwise healthy. He explained that because my case was relatively simple it would be an almost 100% chance it would stay as Keyhole Surgery and he told me how the operation would be performed and went over the consent to surgery form with me. Strangely this made me feel a bit more at ease because he was not only being kind and understanding of my distress, he was professional and informative.
After that discussion I went out to the waiting room again to pass time before being taken to the ward. Again about a 15 minute wait and I was brought through to the ward. A second nurse came to do my heart rate and blood pressure. At this point I was fighting back tears which the nurse could see, so she let me talk out my feelings and offered me kind words to calm me down.
At this point the Anaesthesiologist came into my little curtained off area to tell me what he would be doing as part of the team. The mild sedative he'd administer to get my brain ready for the anesthetic and that I would be the second surgery of the day so I'd be in around midday. He confirmed my consent forms and double checked I was who I was. He also gave me some kind words and left. The nurse took details of who she would call after the operation to let them know I was OK (my husband and the friend who was picking me up) I settled down on the bed while the nurse pottered around with my paperwork. Then the shock happened. The first nurse I'd seen that day poked her head through the curtain to inform the blood pressure nurse that my surgery had been brought forward because the person who was meant to be first hadn't turned up yet. New panic activated. I wasn't expecting it so soon. So I sat there mildly horrified that I wouldn't have time to process. I was told I'd be going to get changed soon. After a short wait, I was then informed the first patient had turned up... So I was bumped back to second I thought. OK I can relax a little... No such luck. The surgical team had already begun prepping for MY operation. So they would still be doing mine first instead. I didn't have time to panic. I was brought through to the changing rooms, given some very sexy paper knickers and compression socks and a robe. I popped on my Grogu dressing gown over the top and my slippers. I didn't even go back tu the ward. The nurses took my clothes I'd come in with and boxed them up safely. I was guided through to the surgical prep room. Where I was greeted by the two members of the team I'd already met and the additional team member. They talked me through everything again and confirmed my consent for the surgery to go ahead and one kept me occupied by talking about my nerdy tattoos as he popped a brain wave monitor on my head. I was asked for my weight and height so the correct dosage of anesthetic could be given. A cannula was put in my hand and the Anaesthesiologist administered the first dose of the sedative which gave me a mild light feeling. They continued to talk to me about my tattoos which were from some of favourite TV series and even had a laugh about my Grogu dressing gown. Then I was given the main dose of anesthetic. No counting down from 10, just continuing to talk about the TV series... And then I woke up in the recovery room. Sore, but not in agony. Feeling very groggy, but I came round fairly quickly. Slurring my words a bit and trying to pay attention to the nurse who was rousing me. As I became more aware she told me my operation had been absolutely textbook with zero issues. Nice clean incisions glued back together. She gave me a mild but hospital standard painkiller
After a few minutes I was wheeled through to the main ward again where I was met by the nurse who had taken my blood pressure. Smiling she sat me up slightly in bed and gave me some water and got me some biscuits to nibble on. She told me that I'd be there for 3 hours after the operation which was standard. They wanted to check I was as comfortable as I was going to be. And that I had been to the toilet at least once during that time. I had a very dry throat from the breathing tube so I was sipping a lot of water. I had a bit of help walking to the bathroom but they said it was positive that I had been. Of course silly me had forgotten to bring a book to read during my wait, but the nurse said as long as I was discreet while she went and made the phone calls I could listen to something on my phone... So me being me, I picked a true crime YouTuber (Rotten Mango). She came back and checked my blood pressure every half an hour, which she was happy with. I just sat and passed the time. Getting more lucid with every passing minute. I was told I could carefully get dressed. My friend was delayed in traffic so I stayed an hour longer than I had to (4 hours in total) and the nurses I'd seen that day both have be a gentle hug and said it had been a pleasure to be with me that day. I slowly made my way to my friend's car and came home to a waiting husband. We took a short walk to the shop (my choice) to get me some light food to eat of crackers and a couple of fruit scones. I didn't immediately feel a need to rest so I gently sat at my computer and watched a few videos. Then at 6:00 I took one of the industrial strength codeine the hospital had given me and settled down to sleep for a couple of hours. I did sleep OK last night after going back to sleep again at about 1am and after taking 2 of the codeine which brings us to now. I've manged to eat, I'm still tender, but on the whole I'm OK less than 24 hours after surgery.
Sorry this was a long one and if you've made it to the end. Thank you for your time

I don't know what to do anymore. I've had sebderm for almost 2 years now, until like 4 months ago, it was kinda under control, though since then im just shedding more hair.
The patches are really visible and i have a feeling Im gonna go bald in like 1 year.
The flakes arent yellow, they are minimal, though my scalp is really sore ( idk why ). Im thinking of using shampoo with salicylic acid again, also Im currently doing ACV rinces every week, followed by MCT oil.
The hair i've lost never came back, Im not sure if its because of the constant inflammation so hair cant grow on that area, or if its just completely gone.
Redness isnt that bad, but the pain when i touch the scalp is.
What should i do?
Im thinking of starting minox. but it will dry the scalp even more.

Hey all, I'm sure these "what do these symptoms sound like" posts get redundant, but I'm trying to help my mom. Over the past 6 months she's been in increasing amounts of pain. I had her type out her story and I'm going to post it for her. I myself was diagnosed with fibro back in 2020. My pain is different than hers but as we know, fibro comes in all sorts of flavors. Take a look below and lmk what you think. Hope you're having an awesome and pain free day :)
"Back in November I injured my back from picking up a young child incorrectly, I picked her up with my arms extended instead of close to my core, right after I picked her up I felt a “twinge” in my lower back and thought to myself darn my back didn’t like that and set her down. I didn’t think much of it and went on with my day, by the next day I noticed my sciatia was bothering me. I waited one more day and then decided to see my acupuncturist, and she solved my problem but I noticed back pain lingered. I continued my usual daily routines and work schedule. Weeks passed and still the pain wasn’t going away. I also started to develop severe acid reflux and had no previous history then came constipation, and stomach pain after I would eat no matter what I ate or how small the meal. I started twice weekly acupuncture treatments hoping for relief. I had a little but nothing consistent. After six weeks of twice a week treatments I stopped. The back pain seem to get worse, it didn’t matter if I would try to do nothing and just relax or if I had a busy day and took care of my grandson.
The pain patterns don’t make sense, the soreness can feel like its directly in my spine or the muscles on each side of my spine. Sometimes my back muscles hurt so bad it’s the type of sore pain that you feel when you get the flu and have intense body aches. The pain is localized from my mid back down to my lower back. As time goes on the nights seem to be the worse, I fall sleep but with 1 to 2 hours I wake up with pain in extreme intensity, it feels like someone is squeezing my entire torso or crushing my spine. Heat use to help but it doesn’t bring soothing relief anymore. In the past 1-2 months the intensity of the pain has been getting worse to the point where it affects my ability to cope with the pain and I start to do short rapid breathing to cop with it, kind of like being in labor.
I decided to consult a chiropractor to be evaluated for possible disk or vertebrae damage. He had a different approach to testing and evaluating, he uses a computerized test the measures the central nervous system along with health history and x-rays. He references the sympathetic and para-sympathetic system and how those systems affect so many systems throughout the body and I was familiar with the information is why I concluded my acid reflux and stomach issues developed shortly after my back injury. After researching online I concluded that I developed Gastroparesis which is tied to the Vegus nerve and its functions. I was going three times a week for adjustments but now I’m going daily because we learned that my nervous system is so inflamed that even the adjustments cause me immense pain later that day and the next.
I feel like there hasn’t been any significant improvements yet. It’s almost getting worse the longer time passes. Nights are my most dreaded time because I only sleep 3-4 hours and I go from my bed to couch trying to change positions or use ice or heat to bring hopeful relief. Nothing seems to help, no position lying or sitting, heat or ice, resting or active. Occasionally I have a day where the pain is minimal and then I think I’m on my way to normalcy then the night or next day is unbearable. The past two days I’ve had to resort to taking over the counter pain medication but I haven’t resorted to that because I know it can cause stomach and liver damage.
Overall summary of pain; mild to extreme lower back muscle, tissue or nerve pain/ mid spine directly in my vertebrae a feeling as if some put a wedge right into my spine/ entire back muscle pain so intense that when the hot water of a shower hits it I cringe until my body adjusts/ acid reflux but has almost disappeared with the help of chiropractic adjustments, stomach pains after eating continue and are very painful/ constipation improved with chiropractor adjustments but has returned again/ Epson salt baths, hot showers, inferred sauna all help while in process but after the pain and soreness return/ physical therapy helped strengthen core but no back relief/ yoga poses or stretches don’t help/ meditative breathing doesn’t help.

It's been 6 months the incident/trigger of injury doesn’t justify the length and intensity of ongoing pain. I believe my body has been in the sympathetic mode (fight or flight) for months. I just want to understand why this is lingering so long and so intense. Any feedback is greatly appreciated."

Today I was finally prescribed Levo, but while I saw my doctor I wanted him to have a look at my throat/neck. After over a month of hypo symptoms I’m suddenly having hyper symptoms again for the past week, on top of that I’ve developed pain in my throat where my thyroid is as well as my lymph nodes feel very swollen and sore. I also have some sort of hard small lump on the back of my neck on the left side. My doctor didn’t examine me at all, just saying that one can fluctuate between hyper and hypo and that my neck is just having inflammation. I’m just worried about the pain since my throat just feels weird and sore when I move my head certain ways or when I cough or sneeze or yawn. I also have a clicking feeling when I swallow sometimes. Should I maybe get it checked out somewhere else or am I overreacting and this is super normal?

Hello all,
I need some advice on some symptoms I'm getting that may/may not be anxiety related,and whether others have experienced this? I'm 36 years old and a mother of two very (very) loud and lively, beautiful children.
I'm pretty sure I've been living in an on-off high state of stress for years But for the last 7 months its sky rocketed due to some digestional issues that I've been convinced is life threatening. As soon as they started I immediately spiralled and it's been a tough job getting back to a sort-of-normal state, but in the background my mind was always going. I think I had just resigned myself to maybe not living past 41.
Then a few weeks ago, I noticed I was getting pulsatille tinnitus in my right ear. It freaked me out, so I went to the doc, he told me it was ear wax. But it's just been getting worse and worse, and louder. Obviously I've obsessed over Dr Google with it and found all sorts of horrors. I started getting tension headaches.
A few days ago, I noticed my right arm feeling a bit weaker and then a tingling in both arms and hands. I rang 111 and was sent to a&e and had a CT scan for a stroke or stenous something or other, and it all came back clear...so I'm back home, but these tingles, and this pulsatille tinitus just won't go, even though I sleep well. I had the strength and grip/neurological tests done by three doctors,all normal. I had my ears cleaned, it's helped a bit, but it's still there.
My mind is just automatically racing and racing trying to fix this and figure it out. I'm a dancer, and if this is MS or nerve damage, I need to know so I can prepare! But I don't want to lose my body or my life this young, and I'm simply terriffied. There's so much in the news about doctor neglicence, so every time I'm told I'm fine by a doctor, I more or less don't believe them. What can I do? I've read on here and a few other places that tingling is a common anxiety symptom that can last and last...but combined with the tinnitus I'm just beside myself.
Thank you everyone xxx

Bit of a rant, but I got on 10mg Lexapro to help manage an extremely specific, temporary stressor in my career that was making me miserable for over a year. I finally was able to leave that job and have been running my own business for almost a month now. Already just being my own boss, while extremely hard and kind of scary, is worlds better than my previous situation! After growing tired of the lack of libido and the weight gain right before my wedding, I felt comfortable starting to taper shortly before I left my old job and have been completely off Lexapro for two weeks. From the beginning I've been aware of/open to the possibility of needing to stay on meds.
I went through two solid weeks of sweats, shakes, extreme nausea, dry mouth/weird phantom tastes, headaches, fatigue, the whole nine yards- pretty similar symptoms as when I was adjusting to the meds entering my system.
The past two days have been the first I felt truly back in my body and haven't had migraines or other side effects. But I've also started gasping awake in the middle of the night and having small panic attacks. 🙃
At what point is it time for me to concede and get back on Lexapro? I'd love to try to push through this difficult feeling and continue feeling my full range of emotions so i don't meed to go through 2-4 more weeks of adjustment side effects, but I also don't want to burn myself out to the point of self-sabotage just weeks before getting married!