Hi, I'm 23 years old and have tried going sober numerous times. My addictions, including not only alcohol, but benzos, weed, and even uppers and psychedelics, were very, very bad— really from ages 16-21 I suffered the worst of it. A lot of factors lead to the excessive abuse, but it was terrible. So many times I blacked out. So many times I was a bad partner, bad friend because of my lack of control. I was a loose cannon that was hurting everything and everyone in my path.
I lost my grandmother when I was 21, and it was an absolutely awful thing to witness. She had helped raise me so I was very close with her, and her death was.. very dramatic. I witnessed all of it since I was living with her, and I will never get over seeing her lying dead on the floor. The yelling and crying from my family.
I remember all of that, but not what happened after. This was from genuine shock, I know, but I spiraled and only a day later I got arrested with a DUI after a man drove off the road to avoid hitting me head on. He broke his back in the process. I lost my license.
I haven't gotten it back since in simple fear of what happened because of my own grief. The fact I could do this to a stranger with a little girl and a wife. The fact I affected someone so drastically that I didn't even know.
So, I tried going sober. I had tried before my 21st birthday since I was drowning handles of whiskey within days of each other. But it didn't stick. After my grandmother's death and my arrest, I tried again. It did last about a month, but I fell into the cycle again.
And here I am now. A 23 year old woman who is sleeping on my aunt's couch and was drinking about four times a week excessively, and taking Klonopins thinking it was alright since I "had control" over it. Thinking I needed alcohol before I hung out with friends, or a Klonopin in the morning and evening to alleviate my stress levels (which I didn't even have a prescription for since I don't have health insurance). Drinking and mixing the two because I had less of a hangover that way, and made my drinking more "fun." (Half of the time I ended up crying.)
The final nail in the coffin was a few days ago. I'll spare all of you the dramatic details, but I ended up taking 3 1mg Klonopins about four hours apart from each other during a drinking binge that lasted all night— until 7am— and ended up severely damaging friendships I had with two people who actually were very nice to me in the process. I said some nasty things in the group chat, really just self sabotaging myself at this point— and now even my other friends haven't been speaking with me. I understand why they aren't.
The point is, after waking up and feeling generally out of it and deathly, the immense shame and guilt came flooding through. That's behavior I pulled years ago. That's what old me used to do. That wasn't me now, so why did I fall to this state again? I wasn't doing as bad as before my grandmother died, and my grandfather just passed last October, but I really thought it was a good thing I hadn't done anything else other than drink regularly and take a few benzos during the day rather than completely and uttering spiraling into chaos— into the person I was before. The person I became again the other night despite it all.
...I thought I had a good handle on it, but I just.. can't be that cool person who can have a few glasses of wine at the party and be okay. No, I'll want the whole bottle and more. Some people are just not built for drinking, and I'm one of them. A bit of my breakdown was probably caused by the increasing realization (and not just shock and denial) of my grandfather's death, I'm sure, among numerous issues in my life; but I am so tired of not having a clear head on my shoulders to deal with these troubles. So tired of just existing every day without ever even living.
I want to be the kind and sweet natured person I know I can be. The one I usually am whenever I am not "other me." I want to be fun and bubbly without having to rely on any substance, and I want to not lash out or cry when I am too drunk.
I want to be a well rounded, stable individual who you can depend on, trust, respect, and even look up to. I want to be the kind of person I'd look up to. So here we are again. I know it's a journey, but I'm ready. I'll keep fighting for as long as I live if that's what it takes.
I've downloaded the app "I Am Sober." I'm trying to look into affordable therapy. I've also stopped taking Kolonpins, and eventually want to cut vaping and (maybe) caffeine out all together.
I've told my partner of my plans, and he's super supportive of me. He struggles with drinking as well, and he's going to try with me. Hopefully it sticks for the both of us, but I am really fighting for myself, now. I don't ever want to feel like that insecure, angry, and fragile little girl I once was again— the one who would lash out at people who loved them and made all the wrong choices.
I am so sorry for this novel of a rant, but going into day two, I feel hopeful of finding myself again. My true self. Getting back into my hobbies. Continuing to build my savings up until I can move out. Eventually, one day, having enough confidence and strength to try for my licenses again.
So it's nice to meet you, everyone, and thank you if you've read this far and read my story. I have no idea what that acronym means at the end of some of your posts, but I like the sound of it. IWNDWYT. Grandma, Papa, Coby, Harley.. all I've lost in the past, I'm sorry you aren't here to see me trying, but I'm going to try and really live for you, now, and for myself. Much love, everyone.

I know how difficult it can be for the average passerby on the internet to read a short question, gestate on it for 10 seconds, and actually answer said question without getting too far off course (read: cheerleading the product he/she/they came here hoping to champion before ever actually reading the question)... but I would never think of you guys as average, so here goes.... ;)

• I'd like to spend < $500
• I will comfortably spend < $750
• The absolute maximum I will spend is $1,000. And that is ONLY if it is really getting me something that gets me that much closer to my #1 Feature/Desire/Capability/Whatever (#1FDCW) I am looking for in a drone.

What is the #1FDCW I'm seeking in a drone you may ask?

• My family is in the roofing business, and I would like to first and foremost be able to take higher-level aerial VIEWS of an area in realtime (not be confused with PICTURES or VIDEOS) and be able to survey as many buildings as I can at one time while still maintaining enough detail in the feed to decipher a new roof from a roof that is in need of work - let me know you would like additional detail/description on this comment and I can provide some examples - and yes, before anyone points it out, much of what I'm describing can already be performed in Google Maps/Earth, but not in realtime nor to level detail/customization the drone option would allow.

Other thoughts and considerations

• Under 250 grams would be great as I'd prefer that I/we don't have to register with the FAA, but I/we'll happily register a heavier drone with the FAA if it means getting me that much closer to my #1FDCW. And yes, I know that even if I get a drone under 250 grams there are still FAA regs that apply and that I need to be mindful of. I'd just prefer to not have to deal with FAA at all UNLESS it gets me something in return in terms of the drone I am able to purchase that meets my #1FDAW and budget constraints. Privacy preferences, etc apply here but are not... let's say... at "libertarian levels".
• I DO NOT care about the quality of pictures/video I am able to capture. However, I DO care about the quality of the live feed I am able to receive. Again, I have ZERO use for the actual pics/vids this drone might or might not be able to kick out. However, I do have SIGNIFICANT use for the ability to scan a large area at once and see in real time the details on the ground. I suspect this may be the bullet-point that throws our average friends for a loop and shows they have absolutely not taken the time to read my admittedly growing-long question... but again, I know none of us here are average and we can all certainly at least comprehend this idea. For background/reference, the areas I would be doing this exercise in are low to low-medium density with a maximum building height of 3 to 5 stories.
• To the extent possible, I would prefer this exercise be done flying 100+ feet above ground where it is likely to go unnoticed by residents and businesses. However, I may be over or underestimating noise created by the drone, where the general flight altitude would need to be, and It's also not clear to me how flight altitude, combined with field of view, zoom and digital processing capabilities, apertures, etc. will all tie together in the real world once I'm out there experimenting. But the general idea remains, I'd prefer to fly higher rather than lower, to the extent that I'm able to see the details on the ground that I need to see.
• All other features and quality levels should fall somewhere approximately where you would expect for a corresponding $400 to $650 to $1,000 drone. For instance, I was looking at a DIY option that I thought might work for me until I read it had FIVE MINUTES flight time! As our other friend, Billy Madison, might express, that's just plain https://youtu.be/KF0ShZssQZM?si=9ie1HUoZFul00BkM&t=9
• I'm willing to look at options outside of DJI, although I understand this community may be a bit biased. For whatever it's worth, to the extent I've explored what's out there and within my budget, I keep finding myself back at DJI anyways, so that probably says something already about where they fall on the spectrum. Not to mention my beloved Costco keeps the Mini 3 and Mini 3 Pro as two of their three stocked drone options, which I generally use for a quick, loose approximation on value and quality. That said, again, I am not at all opposed to, and rather would WELCOME other options.
• As it applies to my #1FDAW, it's not totally clear to me what I gain (and would actually care about) by going from the Mini 3 -> Mini 3 Pro -> Mini 4 Pro, or how those options might compare to other options/brands I have not considered/mentioned.
• Once we enter the $650+ price range I start thinking about product protection plans etc., whereas with the $400 Mini 3 I'd not necessarily feel the urge to purchase a product protection plan, thereby serving as a pro for the lower cost Mini 3

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read. Look forward to hearing what you guys/gals/theys have to say. Stay non-average friends.

The dogs had woken me up. The tone of their barking was off. Not the casual warning tones of something they were telling to stay clear. Those were brief and imported little. These were deeper, more serious, and continuing. There was something they didn’t like out there in the darkness.
Or it might have been subconsciously hearing something out of place. Or Not hearing what should have been there:
The road that ran through and past our place saw the occasional late-night traffic, and this was not unusual. Some folks lived further back up toward the headwaters of the creek than we did. And the road, if continuing to follow it, would take you around the side of the mountain it was cut into to bring you out in the next county over. That was a shortcut some used sometimes to cut out about thirty miles of paved road to get you to the same spot. But that was when the road was passable. If there’d been recent rain, few tried. It was rarely if ever in good repair.
So a vehicle passing in the night was no cause for concern. And you could hear one approaching from a good distance off in a place where the nearest neighbor was two miles away, in the stillness that descended in that place come nightfall.
But the sound of an approaching engine had abruptly cut off a good bit before it had reached our place, and there was no good reason for that to happen, especially late at night. And the dogs were now unquiet. They sensed something or someone out there.
Gramp had known it before I did. An open doorway separated the room in which my brothers and I slept from the living room. After getting out of bed, I could see his shadowy form there in the darkness. No lights on in the house - that wouldn’t do. Not a good idea to silhouette yourself to whomever might be out there. And you can’t See anything, looking out from light into darkness. And letting whomever it might be think the house still asleep was to your advantage.
The door to the porch was open. He’d taken down the loaded 12-guage that was always in its rack above the doorframe. He stood to one side of the door with it ready, peering out around the frame. Silently waiting and watching. I knew there’d already be a round in the chamber.
He noticed me standing there in the darkness of the doorway, and with one hand motioned for me to stay where I was. I understood. To venture into the living room would be to expose myself to the living room window, and to whatever might come through that or the doorway. Where I was, I could quickly step behind the doorframe at need.
So I waited with him, neither of us making a sound.
How long we stood that way I do not know, but eventually the warning tones of the dogs took on less urgency. And not long after, we heard the sound of an engine starting up in the distance, and growing fainter as it went back the way from which it had come.
Sensing that whatever it was was over for the moment, I went back to bed, and lay awake listening. Gramp I left standing, listening, and watching, as he had been. Eventually, after the dogs had been quiet for a while, I heard him do the same. And figured he’d probably be sleeping as lightly as I would. But the dogs would let us know.
I wondered if it had anything to do with something that had happened a couple of days before. Gramp had argued quietly with a man when he and I were on a trip to town. Over what, I’d been hanging back, too far away to hear. I was a child, and unless it had something directly to do with you, you did not intrude into adults’ business. But they’d both seemed pretty angry.
The next day, I watched he had Gram talking quietly in the kitchen. Afterward, she went and retrieved her revolver from where she usually kept it on top of a high wardrobe in a back room, out of easy reach of curious hands belonging to young boys who were forbidden to ever touch it anyway. She placed it on top of the refrigerator instead, closer to hand. For the next few days, she’d take it down and carry it with her whenever she ventured outside. And Gramp himself always had his shotgun in easy reach as he worked about our place.
Sunday came around. Church day. Gramp, again unusually, placed his shotgun barrel-down in the juncture of the truck frame and the end of the bench seat, within easy reach. Through the back window of the cab, from my brothers’ and my perch in the truck bed, I watched Gram settle in and surreptitiously take her pistol from her purse and place it in the glove compartment. And I understood - she could get to it faster that way.
We came back home later that day to find some windows shot or broken out. And one of the dogs had been shot. We spent some time picking buckshot out of his hide; the pellets that weren’t in too deep for us to reach. All on one side; neck, side, legs.
He was a big brute, and unusually aggressive. From the spread, and the tear-drop shapes of the entrance wounds, we surmised that he’d been charging whomever, and had veered aside at the last moment as a gun barrel had swung his way. Just doing his job and protecting the place in our absence. Hit from sufficient distance, and at enough of an angle, that it hadn’t been fatal.
He was stiff and sore for a while, and not moving easily, but he healed up well, with no lasting ill effects. But as time would prove again and again, he was hard to kill anyway.
So a shot across the bow. For what reason I did not know, but would come to better understand as time went by, and I got older and learned more. But again, I was sure I knew by whom. I thought this had been a cowardly way to go about it, but then realized that no one would be likely to confront Gramp in such a way openly and directly.
We never had gotten along well with one particular family; the one of which that man was a part. I didn’t understand why for quite a while. Just that they didn’t like us, and so neither did we them. Whatever had once occasioned it, it extended to we grandchildren on each side. Animosity and mutual dislike. Fights on the schoolyard.
As time went by, I came better to understand, but never a complete picture. Bad things that had happened a long time ago, the memories of which lingered still. Hints of things overhead when they hadn’t been intended to. Questions no one would answer. Things not spoken of. Vague references to a death or two over which hatred and anger still simmered all these long years later. Some things can take a long time dying, and some things; maybe they never do.
I asked Gramp a question about something once, when I was older, and figured I’d earned the right to know. He looked at me in silence for a few moments. Then looked away again with no reply. And I understood that it was a question that should not have been asked. And that I should never ask it again.
A few years back I asked Mother about another matter of which I’d been recently told, and of which I had some doubt. To my surprise, she stated simply that yes it had happened. And thereafter and to this day refuses to ever speak of it again.
Things could not continue as they were. Gramp left one day, and unaccustomedly did not invite us boys to go along. And again unusually, didn’t say where he was going. And I noticed that he went armed.
He came back later in the day. Walking into the kitchen, Gram looked a question at him. His reply a quiet nod. And she took her pistol from the top of the refrigerator and returned it to its old place.
What had passed, I’ll never know. What was said, what accommodation might have been reached. What agreement might have been reached. What might have been promised, good or bad. But there was no further trouble.
I’d heard Gramp threaten another man once. A matter of an insult to us boys. So I was permitted to be present when he confronted the man. A brief conversation beginning with: “I hear ye had some thaings to say to my grandsons”, and in which he then questioned the manhood of a man who’d be so cruel to young boys. Ending with: “If it was ever to happen ag’in …….you gon’ be one Sorry sonofabitch…….Do ye doubt my word?” Said in quiet, conversational tones.
And the quiet answer, the man unwilling or unable to meet his eyes: “No, Sir. I do not.” Everyone knew his word was good.
“All right, then.”
I marveled at that, and for the first time wondered: “Who Are you, Gramp? Who were you before I knew you? Why is this man so suddenly afraid?”
He wasn’t always the man I knew. He’d been a much harder one in times past, in a time and place and in situations that had required it. I’ve gathered some of the stories over time. Gram once told me that yes, he once had been someone else. In her words: “Folks were alwys……..careful…….around yer Gramp.”
But who among us is who we used to be? I’m not, and I know of few if any who are. My brothers aren’t. I think times and situations sometimes make us who we Have to be. And a time comes eventually, if we survive, when we have the luxury of being someone else.
To me, then and now, he’s just Gramp. The father that my brothers and I were blessed with when our own no longer wanted the job. Beloved by nearly all, but still with a few enemies. I wanted to Be him.
The oldest photograph the Family has of him is from when he was 21 years of age. It would have been taken in 1914. A tall, unusually handsome young man with broad shoulders. Black suit with no necktie. White shirt open at the throat. Hat pushed back on his head. Strands of dark hair failing partially across one eye. Dancing eyes, and a big sloppy grin on his face reminiscent of the one I’d come to know so well many years hence. Drunk as a Bishop, looking for all the world as if he was about to fall out of the saddle of the big white horse he sat astride.
He’d sworn off smoking, gambling, drinking, and quite a few other things for a long time before I came along. In the time that I knew him he was a respected senior Deacon in his church.
But he still would cuss a little, upon occasion, if provoked. And he’d fish on Sunday if he pleased, thank you very much.
I know the spot where he’d once had his still. A nice, shady holler not far from the house, with a good stream of clear-running water. My brothers and I would play there as boys. When I was young, the occasional jar would still turn up now and then. He’d hidden so many about the place that he’d forgotten where many of them were.
Had to hide ‘em, you see. Gram had not approved. She’d pour out or break any that she found. SHE was the only person that I ever saw Him be “careful” around.
They were husband and wife for more than seventy years. He could always make her laugh, and she could always make him smile.

Read from April 29 – May 04, 2024
1/5 stars I HATED THIS
NOTE: I started out with an open mind read the first chapter, and then this turned into a hate-read.
That being said, no hate to anyone who enjoyed this book, I would love to hear what your opinions are, both on the book and this review :)
Let’s start with my ‘favourite’ quote:

“but it is impossible for someone who was not abused to become an abuser.”
Theo Faber, Psychotherapist

I genuinely do not understand what the hype around this book is.
To be fair, the second I read the words ‘TikTok sensation’ in the advertising, I should have known better.
The thing that struck me is that Michaelides is a SCREENWRITER, and this very much reads like a script, it felt like it was written solely for the purpose of selling the movie rights.
TLDR: This book wants to be Gone Girl so bad.
So, save yourself, if this is on your TBR, forget about it, read something else, ANYTHING else, read a newspaper, just don’t read this.
Longer rant Review, including the writing, characters, setting, and my main issues with this novel.

The Writing:

Is mediocre, at best. It’s very much in the style of ‘he said, she said’.
The best way I can describe it is that it reminds me of a middle-grade novel, where everything is stated clear cut and there isn’t much effort needed on the reader’s part.
There’s nothing wrong with that, for a KID’S book, but this is NOT written for a 10-year-old.
There’s long swaths of exposition, the chapters are between 2-5 pages long, we are constantly told who’s speaking, points are stated and then re-stated kind of like:

“Alicia Berenson has not spoken in 6 years” Diomedes said.
That’s right, from what I remember, she has not spoken since her husband was killed, 6 years ago.

So much needless repetition.
The reason I said that it reads like a script is because there is a lot of useless dialogue + endless descriptions.
Each character and setting is described in such needless detail, going on for entire paragraphs, for example:

Barbie was a Californian blonde in her mid-sixties, possibly older. She was drenched in Chanel No 5, and she’d had a considerable amount of plastic surgery. Her name suited her – she looked like a startled Barbie doll. She was obviously the kind of woman who was used to getting what she wanted – hence her loud protestations at the reception desk when she discovered she needed to make an appointment to visit a patient.

This character has been mentioned once or twice previously but she is relevant for MAYBE 15 pages out of 336.
Majority of the side characters are introduced like this, however, Theo isn’t really described in much detail beyond the ‘tall, dark and brooding’ trope and neither is Alicia, so the 2 protagonists are essentially blank slates.
The dialogue is so cringey, almost every chapter mentions the weather [this is set in the UK], like the weather is used as filler relentlessly.
There’s a bunch of continuity errors, the main one that comes to mind is that at the start of the book when Theo first enters The Grove [don’t even get me started on the name of the hospital, it sounds like the name of a cartoon villain’s layer, not a psych hospital] he is asked to give up his lighter and any other objects that could be used as weapons, yet he and majority of the side characters smoke CONSTANTLY INSIDE THE HOSPITAL.
The writing also reminded me A LOT of Colleen Hoover’s writing, and if that women has no haters, then I’m dead.

The Diary Entries:

Like I said, this book wants to be Gone Girl so bad.
The diary entries are written very weirdly, they don’t read like a journal, where you might get more of a stream of consciousness sort of style, they read like POV switches from 6 years in the past.
They don’t flow and amble like you would expect.
Examples:

Tears collected in my eyes as I walked up the hill. I wasn’t crying for my mother – or myself – or even that poor homeless man. I was crying for all of us. There’s so much pain everywhere, and we just close our eyes to it.
But I ruined the mood, stupidly, clumsily – by asking if he would sit for me. ‘I want to paint you,’ I said. ‘Again? You already did.’ ‘That was four years ago. I want to paint you again.’ ‘Uh-huh.’ He didn’t look enthusiastic. ‘What kind of thing do you have in mind?’ I hesitated – and then said it was for the Jesus picture. Gabriel sat up and gave a kind of strangled laugh. ‘Oh, come on, Alicia.’

The diary entries are not diary entries, they are memories.
People don’t write down entire conversations word for word like this when they journal, like “’
I had lunch with Martha’ he said”, you write it like “Gabriel had lunch with Martha today.”
I know why the diary entries feel so weird, they read like movie scenes, like a flashback.
Like the memory/subject of the diary entry should be playing in the background while someone narrates.
Again, this was a script, not a novel, I stand by this point.

The Characters:

Character development is frankly non-existent, the characters don’t exists as themselves, they exist to serve the plot.
They have no depth, and their motivations are lacking.
Theo faber: he was abused as a kid and is therefore damaged.
Chapter 3 was literally just an exposition dump of his entire childhood, just straight out of the blue.
It was like Chapter one: a report of the murder, chapter 2 further recollection, chapter 3: so my father beat throughout my childhood, I don’t know why.
Theo’s father was verbally and physically abuse, Theo attempted suicide when he was at uni, because the things his dad said made him feel like a failure.
But we are never told WHAT has been said, and therefore, we don’t see why exactly Theo would have doubts about himself.
Abuse shapes you as a person, if we got to hear his inner thoughts about what his father said, it would give greater insight into Theo’s identity as a character.
Besides that, Theo has a RAGING saviour complex,

“Unable to come to terms with what she had done, Alicia stuttered and came to a halt, like a broken car. I wanted to help start her up again – help Alicia tell her story, to heal and get well. I wanted to fix her.”

The book is filled with passages like that.
And besides that, it’s just filled with loads of nonsense psychobabble.
Theo is also OBSESSED with Alicia, the book tells us it’s out of guilt, but I contest and say that he’s just a creep who very much treats Alicia like a failed version of a manic pixie dream girl.
Alicia Berenson: Alicia is a walking contradiction.
We are told that she is beautiful, charming, sophisticated, but she instead comes across as an anti-social, paranoid shut in with serious co-dependency issues.
She has no friends, no relationships outside of her husband Gabriel, no hobbies, or interests outside of painting and having sex with her husband.
All she does in her chapters is paint, have arguments with people, have sex, and walk around.
Side characters: only exist to serve the plot.
Professor Lazarus Diomedes: the name alone makes me cringe.
He’s Greek, he has a lot of instruments in his office including a piano and a harp [which are never brought up after the initial chapters he’s introduced and he never plays any of them], he’s “unorthodox” and shunned, and he basically exists to be Theo Faber’s ‘yes man’.
Christian: stereotypical work rival who has a habit of calling all the patients bitches.
Yuri: He’s a psych nurse who takes Theo to bar and tell him that he and his wife divorced, and he fell in love with someone else. Fine fair enough, but does he approach this woman like a normal person?
No, he pulls a Joe from YOU and stalks and harasses her.
Yet later on THEO SAYS THAT HE IS A GOOD MAN AND THAT HE IS SORRY DOUBTING YURI. DESPITE INITIALLY BEING UNCOMFORTABLE WITH HIS BEHAVIOUR.
Then again Theo himself is a stalker so go figure.

The Setting:

The Grove is supposed to be a mental hospital used to detain mentally ill criminals.
Firstly, all the patients are female. It is never stated that the hospital is an all-female facility.
Second, we never get an idea of the scope of this place, there’s only one therapy room for EVERYONE to use, only 2 psychiatrists on payroll, Diomedes and Christian, 2 therapists, Theo and a side character named Indira, one psychiatric nurse, Yuri and an admin assistant, Stephanie.
The layout and descriptions are confusing, one area is referred to as the ‘Fishbowl’ throughout the novel.
Racism:
I don’t know if Michaelides has some internalized racism going on but every single foreign character has a habit of erasing their cultural identity.
Examples:
Yuri, the psych nurse who is Latvian –

Yuri was good-looking, well built, and in his late thirties. He had dark hair and a tribal tattoo creeping up his neck, above his collar. He smelled of tobacco and too much sweet aftershave. And although he spoke with an accent, his English was perfect.

This sort of backhanded compliment is considered racist, as someone who is POC myself, I’ve gotten this plenty of times and it always gives me the ick.
Jean-Felix, the gallerist –
He spoke with an accent. I asked if he was French. ‘Originally – from Paris. But I’ve been here since I was a student – oh, twenty years at least. I think of myself more as British these days.’
There were more examples, but these are the main ones I found in my notes.

Misogyny:

Firstly, the patients are all female, like I said earlier, it is never stated that it is an all-female facility.
This book is dripping with it, every single female character is either described as a manic pixie dream girl, a maternal figure, or a psychotic bitch.
The DOCTORS refer to their patients as bitches multiple times.
Example:

“She was entirely consumed with herself and her art. All the empathy you have for her, all the kindness – she isn’t capable of giving it back. She’s a lost cause. A total bitch.’ Christian said this with a scornful expression-“
Rowena gave a derisive snort. ‘Because Alicia’s the least responsive, most uncommunicative bitch I’ve ever worked with.’

Besides that, they are often compared to birds:

“I remember Mum and those colourful tops she’d wear, with the yellow stringy straps, so flimsy and delicate – just like her. She was so thin, like a little bird.”
“Alicia was sitting alone, I noticed, at the back of the room. She was picking at a meagre bit of fish like an anorexic bird;”

Alicia is also very much painted as a manic pixie dream girl in her diary entries, almost every page of her POV mentions sex, and it has no effect on the plot.
It was mentioned so often that I ended up keeping track out of boredom [I should have also tracked how often the weather was mentioned].
I think I have 15 tabs in 300 pages by the end of it for just sex scenes.
I don't have an issue with sex, but just like in movies when it gets thrown in for no reason, that's when it irritates me.
And of course the mentally ill woman with possible psychosis and BPD has to be shown as hot and a nymphomaniac.
Every one of her POVs reads like:
“Gabriel and I had an argument and then we had sex.”
“I went for a walk and fantasized about Gabriel.”
“I was trying to paint Gabriel but then we had sex.”
“I had an argument with someone and came home to wake up Gabriel and we had sex.”
I can see why this atrocity is a BookTok favourite.
Oh, and this line: [Warning NSFW]

“It’s still populated by sixteen-year-olds, embracing the sunshine, sprawled on either side of the canal, a jumble of bodies – boys in rolled-up shorts with bare chests, girls in bikinis or bras – skin everywhere, burning, reddening flesh. The sexual energy was palpable – their hungry, impatient thirst for life. I felt a sudden desire for Gabriel – for his body and his strong legs, his thick thighs lain over mine. When we have sex, I always feel an insatiable hunger for him – for a kind of union between us – something that’s bigger than me, bigger than us, beyond words – something holy.”

She’s out on a walk and salivating over 16-year-olds. Enough said.

Medical Malpractice:

Not only is a lot of the psychology in this book outdated, but in general, there is so much misinformation.
The psychology is so outdated, and it's mostly centered around Freud.
The biggest example I can think of is Alicia’s initial treatment, she has been put on Risperidone, which is an anti-psychotic prescribed to schizophrenic patients [Also prescribed for autism, BPD, etc. but that's on a case by case basis]
In the book, Alicia is shown to be completely out if it, she’s drooling on the floor, and practically comatose.
Risperidone is NOT a sedative [it can have sedative EFFECTS, but sedation is not the function] it acts on dopamine and serotine receptors and is used to reduce symptoms of schizophrenia, i.e. prevent hallucinations and help stabilize mood.
It should not be causing Alicia to be unresponsive.
[Disclaimer, this is just coming from my basic knowledge as a med student and a few quick google searches, if I'm wrong, please correct me.]
Moving on, Theo wants to treat Alicia but she’s on 16 mg of Risperidone, which is the highest safe dose possible.
He asks Christian to lower the dose, what does Christian do?
He stops giving Alicia 16 mg and switches her to 5 mg.
An 11 mg decrease. IN ONE DAY.
There is no gradual decrease, no safety precautions, NOTHING.
For context, Risperidone is prescribed in 0.5 – 1 mg increments.
This means that an 11 mg decrease is incredibly dramatic and DANGEROUS, it can send a patient into a psychotic episode, cause them to relapse and lead to withdrawal.
Christian being a psychiatrist should know this.
Patients are allowed access to a pool table without supervision, all the doctors smoke and offer their patients cigarettes,
Yuri deals drugs, Theo seemingly does no ither work besides talk to Alicia and play detective.

Depiction of mentally ill patients:

Throughout the book the patients are often referred to as animals, monstrous or zombies.
Examples:

“Her [Elif, a patient] face was pressed up against it, squashing her nose, distorting her features, making her almost monstrous.”
“It took four nurses to hold Alicia down. She writhed and kicked and fought like a creature possessed. She didn’t seem human, more like a wild animal; something monstrous.”
[Alicia is painting, Theo is watching]
“I felt like I was present at an intimate moment, watching a wild animal give birth. And although Alicia was aware of my presence, she didn’t seem to mind.”

On top of that, the word borderline gets thrown out A LOT, but it is never explained and is often derogatory.
Example:

[This is Christian the psychiatrist speaking, warning Theo about Alicia]
‘I’m just saying. Borderlines are seductive. That’s what’s going on here. I don’t think you fully get that.’

I am not against problematic writing, as long as it serves a purpose, but Michaelides is not talented enough to do something like this intentionally, and showing patients in this light serves no purpose.
Theo makes it very clear that he thinks that Elif, a Turkish woman, is ugly and rude, it is mentioned every time she is on the page.
This sort of depiction is harmful, mental health gets a bad enough rep as it is, again, I take no issue with problematic writing, but this is not problematic or controversial, this is ignorance.
The depiction of mental illness, coupled with the use of Risperidone, indicates, to me, that Michaelides did not do his research whatsoever.
He just thought of a cool idea and ran with it.
Oh, and lastly, let’s not forget:

“but it is impossible for someone who was not abused to become an abuser.”

No, just no. ANYONE can be abusive.
Correlation does not equal causation.
This is blatant misinformation and a very harmful message to send and I was actually so angry when I read that.

The Twist [spoilers]

The twist is the most ridiculous thing, and it hangs on by a thread.
I had already guessed that Gabriel was the one who Kathy’s affair partner was, and the entire thing falls apart when you realize that if any of Theo’s chapters were dated, you would figure it out immediately.
That’s a very loose basis for a dramatic reveal.
Yes, Theo is an unreliable narrator and I usually enjoy such stories, but this was just lazy.
I’m sorry, Theo followed Gabriel all over London and never ONCE saw his face, never heard Kathy moan his name when he was spying on them, not ONCE.
It’s poor when your twist relies on my suspension of disbelief.
Conclusion
- Poorly written, reads like a middle-grade novel. Michaelides is a screenwriter, and this very much reads like a script, designed to be easy to follow and direct.
- Horrible depiction mental health, both as a patient and in practice.
- Hollow, 2D characters.
- Misogynistic.
- Overall waste of time, save yourself.

Hi all this post touches on nature, education, the link with therianthropy as well as my experiences and opinions everything will be marked under a specific subheading so if you want to read about/skip to a specific part they are there for a reason.
Nature and Mental Health
The first topic is the link between seeing/being in/interacting with nature and how it affects mental health through various studies psychologists have found links to positive mental health outcomes from being in or near nature. In some studies, it has been proposed that being in or near nature regularly can lessen mental health side effects even if temporary and can also reduce the need for medication for some mental disorders. It can help you become more grounded and aware of your surroundings which can help dissociation, depression, overthinking and anxiety and help make you feel more stable in day-to-day life relaxing your mind from other things that may be ailing you as a paper on the American psychology association website quotes

In a review of the research, Gregory Bratman, PhD, an assistant professor at the University of Washington, and colleagues shared evidence that contact with nature is associated with increases in happiness, subjective well-being, positive affect, positive social interactions and a sense of meaning and purpose in life, as well as decreases in mental distress (Science Advances, Vol. 5, No. 7, 2019).

As well as improving your mental health it can improve your physical health which hits two birds with one stone as physical and mental health can be closely linked which is not all that surprising as your brain is a physical part of your body. Just like how poor mental health can affect your physicality examples like not being able to get out of bed, restlessness, nausea etc. good physical health can benefit your mental health and vice versa. According to Mind a mental health-led organization in the UK physical activity can

• Help manage stress
• Improve sleep
• Improve your mood
• Improve confidence
• Help you socialize and meet new people
• Help manage symptoms of depression and anxiety
• Improve memory and brain functioning
• Assist Heart, muscle and bone health
• Reduce the risk of developing some long-term health conditions, such as heart disease

Even after that, more benefits are not listed and will be different for each individual if they decide to try and connect more with nature and be around it more. As someone with a physical disability I can also recognize it can be a struggle for people to mobilly get there or even try and build up the motivation to go outside in the first place the nice thing about nature in my opinion is that you can reap positive benefits from just going out there and sitting in it and listening and being aware of your surroundings. If you struggle with either of these issues, you can start by just going outside and sitting down, even if it's just out your front door, into your garden, or even just sitting outside the grocery store. Over time it can get easier if the benefits of being around nature are allowed to take effect and can become a positive experience that you look forward to.
Why is knowing more about our natural world positive?
Knowing more and being in the natural world is positive for many reasons previously aforementioned it can have positive mental health effects. Being more educated can give you a greater understanding for how things work in our world as well as keeping you more mindful of what is around you in our world everyday nature exists even if it's hard to see from the feral pigeons in cities to the most remote places with no human civilization it is there in our day to day lives. It can give you a greater appreciation for your or international environments it leads you to being more aware of your surroundings potentially grounding your thoughts and having a more positive outlook on our world and appreciating all the little things we have that are everywhere.
One of the big all around positive affects around is that you can help the planet and your local ecosystem there are so many small things you can do that can benefit yourself and the world around you which I will list in the last part of this post. Some studies have shown biodiversity can also correlate to longer lasting and better positive effects from being around/in nature. Conservation is so important to keep us and so many amazing organisms here on this planet there are many organisations that you can learn more about conservation and the effects like

• WWF - for international
• RSPB - mainly for UK but also international
• Rainforest Alliance - International

There are also lots of amazing nature documentaries that show you around the world and the many ecosystems that inhabit it how we effect the ecosystem and what you can do. Helping the enviroment doesn't have to include money either it can just be being educated and possibly educating others like not interacting with wildlife or not feeding them (except in specific situations) Another benefit is I have seen therians go into multiple animal related fields and if this is something that interests you these kinds of things would help you tremendously with finding a job within those kinds of fields.
How does this affect therianthropy?
A large portion of therians I interact with have some form of mental health issues not to mention species dysphoria which can worsen mental health as well this affects people's abilities to function in day-to-day life and just like how depression and closed negative environments in animals it can take our natural functions out of us. In captive, stressful or no-enrichment situations animals tend not to act like they would in their natural environment and start expressing potentially self-harmful behaviors that can make it even worse. A good amount of therians I have met feel that way in general human society they feel "trapped" and because of that they have poor quality of life and feel they can't express their true selves. Even though I personally don't experience this myself I have seen the effects this has had on people and it can foster a specific mentality that can spiral into poorer mental health feeling like you can never get out and that you're held captive in human society. Being in nature can help alleviate some of these feelings and can last for after you are in nature and can make you feel more content and less dysphoric.
For some people being in nature brings them closer to their natural environment that they would be in as an animal and helps alleviate dysphoria as humans and as animals, we all originally come from nature no matter where we are in our lives. Not only this but I have found in a lot of instances mental health and therianthropy is thoroughly interlinked and various therians have reported to me that they feel more like themselves or happy in their identity when their mental health gets better and feel more dysphoric when they feel worse and not like themselves. Poor mental health can also affect people's ability to do things they normally do including activities that can bring them closer to their identity as an animal and can make people feel uninterested in things that they normally are or make them not act like themselves. Not to mention being in a more positive headspace just feels you feel better all around but also can improve interactions with other people, especially other nonhumans being able to create a common interest within nature. I personally feel like people focus alot more on the identity, labels and being "valid" than being an animal itself and even then theres a lot of people only caring about surface level stuff.
One thing that I don't think everyone thinks about is with a lot of these things it induces your natural animal behaviour as well for me when I'm bird watching it can feel like stalking to try and not spook them and get a picture , learning to recognise animal calls, tracks, bones etc. helps me identify animals like I would as a wolf. It also for me just kind of empties my head, I'm in the moment I am not thinking about other things that are not happening that second I am just in nature doing things and to me that is a much more animalistic mindset and is a lot more peaceful to be in. Learning more about nature helps you learn more about yourself, how you came to be, what effect you as a human and animal have on the things around you and lots of other things you can learn more about the natural enviroment you would be in as an animal I think alot of people just look in to the animal itself and not the enviroment around it. I am so interested to learn about myself but also the enviroment that wouldve been around me all the organisms that play into my life and how we interact and effect eachother it gives me this greater feeling of being where i belong. For people who are animals that are hunted by anything you can use this for a similar thing with the knowledge about different animals and how to interact with them a good example of this is in a book called Tales Of Wild Bird life by H.M Mortimer chapter Children Of The Mist

Suddenly there sounded 2 soft, frog-ike croak from somewhere up the slope, and instantly the mother flattened, the chicks under her, her neck rigidly outstretched against the ground. A moment ago she had been just a brown mottled bird on the stony earth, but now she ceased to be. She became one of the thousand thousand stones about her, and not even a chameleon could have camouflaged itself so wonderfully. There might have been eyes on earth which could pick her out, but not human eyes, and certainly clumsy human feet would have trodden her under.
when again that warning croak sounded up the slope, followed as before by the strong burr of wings. The mother ptarmigan must have known in some mysterious way what was coming, for this time she acted very differently. She rose as her mate had risen and went burring off, leaving the chicks to take their chances, and as she left them, each minute atom of grousehood crouched and flattened just as she had flattened yesterday. Such desertion seemed callous on the mother's part, but the reason for it became clear when a minute or so later a lean, grey-stockinged mountain fox came trotting down the slope, sifting every gust with his keen nostrils. He paused within ten paces of the ptarmigan chicks, and from the keen alertness of his amber eyes one would have thought that nothing would escape him, yet he saw them not, though had their mother been crouching there he would both have seen and smelt her. So her presence would merely have betrayed her helpless brood. ​ Activities/Things you can do

• An app I have been using alot called "iNaturalist" has been my go to and has been extremley educational and fun, it is an app for posting any indication of prescense of life regarding any organism this can come in the form of eggs, bones, tracks or the organism itself. These observations can also be used for scientific research to learn more about out natural work and help assist studies in knowing what things are where and if they should/shouldn't be or if there should be more or less of it. It also means that if you don't want to you don't have to clutter your phone with photos as you can use it as a gallery for wildlife pictures as well as posting observations you can identify organisms on desktop from others observations. You can set filters like only seeing mammals, or birds or fish or within a certain reigon or area or you can set it to observations of only a certain species/genus you can learn so much from ID'ing organisms when you ID organisms on desktop it gives you suggestions on what the photo could be and also tells shows you how abundent/if it resides in that area usually to help you make a descision. They also have their own information pannels on the website about almost every organism or organism group including a tab for where they live and their abundance showing you a visiual map of their observations, more photos that you can filter by sex and age so you can know if they look different because of sex/age and showing species theyre commonly misidentified as. Other people can also help you identify your observations and works off of a majority rules vote on what the ID is.

​

• You can make your own or buy native seed mixes to help increase biodiversity in your neighbourhood this is especially good for those who do not have accsess to a garden but you can make this in any country by researching native flowers and spreading them.
  
• Volunteer at a local rescue, wildlife organisation, wildlife charity or other related fields they will teach you so much about the enviroment and how you can help perserve it you can also donate to their charities or participate/organise fundraising events
  
• There are many activites you can download or find online with things to do on nature walks like scrapbooking or flower preservation/drying , walking and looking about and identifying organisms you see can be fun in it's own right too!
  

​

• Learn how to increase biodiversity in your garden/living space it can help bring more animals to your living space so you can see them/see them more often after introducing a pond to my garden European common frogs came! (Attatched is my own photos I took!)
  
• Donate to wildlife charities some send you magazines in the post and update you of where your donations go and what they go towards
  
• Growing plants in or outside your home can help you bring the effects of nature closer to you
  
• Watch documenteries like Our Planet or Planet Earth that talk about conservation, animal lives and our world in general and how we interact with it and how it interacts with us
  
• Research on the things you buy and support and how they come into being, a lot of poeple have ethical standpoints on buying specific things but are hugely detatched from where our day to day products come from and how they effect the world. Learning about something like how meat is brought to our tables, how to or how plants are grown and other practices for eating can give you a greater understanding and appreciation for what is around you
  
• Just have fun, go outside and explore just walk and see what you see go to places you haven't gone before and see what you can find more often than not you'll be suprised
  

I hope that this was educational and potentially brings a bit more joy to anyones life here thank you for reading.

I hope someone can relate to this. I don't have anyone to talk to irl. Even to my closest friends I'm really bright and happy, so saying something like this would definitely sound out of character.
For context, I am a teenager so I still live with my parents.
A few months ago my best friend took her own life. I was obviously very sensitive and emotional at the time and while the following days were not very productive, I was able to get back to work relatively quickly. Like literally the next day I had my driver's test and final exams and I was able to pass them all. I think the main reason I was able to remain so functional was my parents. Considering the subreddit we're in, I don't think I have to explain to you guys how emotionally constipated they are. I remember my dad yelling at me a lot to get it together and my mom's tired sighs whenever I cried. I guess since they didn't really let me grieve properly, I never fell into a crazy depression. There were definitely moments these past few months where I spiraled but I made sure to keep it to myself. I always acted properly in front of them.
For some reason, I started feeling especially sad lately. I think it's because of the whole kendrick vs. drake thing. I never rly got into rap but she was a huge fan. I was just wondering how she'd react to it, is all, but I suddenly started crying. My mom saw me and asked what was wrong. This is where I messed up. I really should've lied and said I watched a sad video but for some reason I told her the truth. I guess I wanted her to comfort me or something (super naive). She just told me to move on and forget about her. This made me really mad, I couldn't stand listening to her anymore so I left while she was speaking (which I admit was really rude). She told my dad and then he started yelling at me and it became a whole big thing. They just kept telling me to move on and forget. I would understand why they said that if I'd spent the last few months locked in my room, but I haven't. I go to school, I get good grades, I have a part time job. They themselves said that they were surprised I still thought about it. I only cried one time but they became this upset.
I have a framed photo of my friend and a few of us together on the shelf above my desk. But today, as I was cleaning my room, I noticed that they were gone. I asked my mom and she said my dad must have gone in and taken them. My parents are very religious and superstitious so they thought the reason for my outburst was because the picture had negative energy. I'm soooo mad and sad. I can't stop crying now. I know asian parents are supposed to be emotionally distant and cold, and I know they hate seeing me suffer, but isn't this too much? It's just a picture.
I've been doing everything they want until now. I made one mistake and now they are taking away something precious to me
Has anyone gone through something similar? What is the most simple, direct way I can convey my feelings to them? How can I tell them that they're hurting me and not helping me? Is there a line of reasoning I can spell out that will make them understand how being sad is okay? That forgetting my precious friend is the last thing I want to do? No matter what I say it seems like they can't understand.
I'm sorry for such a long post. Any advice is greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time

Hello! I am 15M and just got am planning to get a buzz cut ( in order to support my friend who is getting one too ). Since I’ve always wanted permed hair, I was wondering how long it will take to regrow my hair so I can do a perm?

I've seen plenty of posts with people saying how much they can't stand Lila and don't understand why Diego--the same person who was out for vengeance for the people who killed Patch--still loved her after everything she's done. I, however, have a rather dark theory in regards to the writing around her.
Now, it's a pretty well-known fact that the creator of the comic, Gerard Way, based the characters off of himself and personal friends. Ben is meant to represent his deep-seated fear of losing his brother, Klaus reflects his brother's and his own past struggles with addiction, and Luther is a reflection of his loneliness and body image issues. You get the picture.
Lila Pitts, however, is a completely original character, created specifically for the show.
I've seen this theory online that Steve Blackman was inspired by Gerard's wife, Lindsey Way (AKA Lyn-Z). Back in the day, Lindsey was the most popular member of the band she played bass in, Mindless Self Indulgence. In more recent years, though, she's gained a lot of traction for some very questionable behavior. She claimed that she's Indian and adopted; she supposedly has beef with Frank Iero (Gerard's fellow band member, whom Five is loosely based on); has expressed jealousy over her husband's success; allegedly can't even play the bass (I'm not a musician myself, but people who are familiar with the instrument point out how it looks like she doesn't even play it correctly in concerts; just mutes the strings. Also, all that jumping around she did would make it go out-of-tune.)
In the show, Lila herself is Indian and adopted. She and Five have animosity with each other. Her power is copying the Hargreeves' abilities. And lies a lot (to the point where I thought she was doing it again in S3 about being pregnant, until we got the scene of her alone and checking her stomach).
Given what Lyn-Z's former bandmate has been accused of and coming to his defense, along with MSI's offensive lyrics involving racism and ableism, fans have wondered why Gerard chose someone whose morals appear to be the complete opposite of his. Despite all the controversy that blew up in 2020, he spent virtually all of the tour with My Chemical Romance, speaking fondly of her to the audience, how they fell in love, etc. Meanwhile, his bandmates would have their backs turned without engaging in his speeches.
It really makes Diego and Lila's relationship a lot darker with this in mind.
Another thing to note is that Diego is loosely based on Gerard's former friend, Bert McCracken, whose friendship was very toxic, especially with Gerard's substance abuse at the time. Gerard was apparently ready to forgive Bert long before Bert was, whose notorious reputation in the meantime forever ruined some people's perception on him.
Now, I know none of this has been confirmed. Again, they're just theories I've seen online.

Hi all!
ok so.. long story short I feel my ocd gets really triggered when my intrusive thoughts come true. I have terrible "what if" thoughts, one being in the past "what if i dont sleep for years" and that spiraled me into anxiety so bad i now have chronic insomnia for four years lol idk how im even alive(validating my "what if" thought). It sounds stupid now typing it out lol but like the fear is so bad it consumes my body and I just cant control it (feels like addiction tbh).... just wondering what to do when your "what if" thoughts come true.
another what if thought i had that came true was what if i start losing hair and that also manifested. its just super triggering knowing your "what ifs" aren't magical and can actually come true.
Appreciate any guidance/help or anyone who has similar.

Hey— I’m Jack. I’m a Psychology student looking to become a therapist. I have my future all planned out for the most part and know what I want to do! We can talk more about that if you’re interested but let’s get into who I am not what I do. My strengths: I’m a genuine, kind, deeply empathetic, creative, relatively intelligent, open minded, non-judgmental person, sometimes hilarious(I do miss frequently) person, who lives and thinks outside the box. It wouldn’t be fair if I just said my strengths right? So here are some of my weaknesses: I can be stubborn, overly sensitive to what my friend/partner are feeling, I have the tendency to mind-read. Those are obviously not all my strengths and weakness but it should give you a small picture of me.
As for my appearance, I think I’m pretty attractive but also recognize I’m not what everyone is looking for. I’m 5’6, 185, In sort of average shape. My face has been called “attractive,” “Cute,” “beautiful” and “pretty” but rarely “hot” or “sexy” so I’m not sure I’m giving that vibe if that’s what you’re looking for 😂 And that’s okay. I have reddish-brown hair swooped back and parted down the middle, brown eyes that have been called kind, and a bright smile. I also have a mustache. I’m not sure why I felt the need to put this description when we can definitely exchange selfies and what not if thats what you want— but if not there you go.
I have a lot of interests, some nerdy some not. I truly think there’s so much more to a person than their hobbies though and hobbies can change so while I’m not opposed to talking about this— I feel like this question is where many conversations go to die. But if it’s important to you drop the question, I’m sure it will come up eventually anyway.
I’m on a life long self improvement journey so I would like to meet someone that shares that mentality.
There’s so much more to me than what I mentioned here but part of the fun is getting to know each other right? Lets talk!
I’m not necessarily looking exclusively for a partner. I’d like to get to know each other, build chemistry and see where it goes. If we wind up as friends I’m completely fine with that. If you are looking for a partner in me though, it’s important that I’m attracted to my partner physically— but more importantly mentally, emotionally, ect. I hate saying this because I feel like a shallow person but physical attraction is important— if those are your intentions. However I’m not going to push you to show me what you look like before you’re comfortable. I’m not in any rush. But if you want to feel free to send a selfie with your introduction! It would be nice to know who I’m talking to but it’s not required.
My strongly preferred age range is 23-29, and the closer to my age the better. However if you’re slightly outside of that and feel strongly about getting to know me then we can see where it goes.
Looking forward to knowing you!

I love my mummy. She grew me from her insides, encased by the flesh that we share. She nourished me with the liquid pulsing through her rotten body. Together we play games, mummy shows me how to make dolls from the scraps of daddy’s meat, pretty girl dolls with long floppy limbs that reek of decay. I don’t like mummy after the sun goes down. She tells me we can’t make dolls anymore, tells me my dolls are stupid. At night I hide. I have to find a different hiding spot tonight; mummy found my last one at sunrise. I can see the claw marks from when she found me in the linen cupboard. Long nails attached to long fingers, penetrating the cheap wooden door until there was nothing but torn up paint and inch deep fleshless lacerations.
The sun is setting. The final flash of orange sky and her eyes will gloss over like daddy’s did when mummy found him. Wet film slicked over green ovals of empty rage. She still looks like mummy, only her mouth is a tight line that reaches from ear to ear, and it can’t open very well. It’s all muffled words now. Mummy looks like a tree after the sun sets. Her arms and her legs grow longer, they get too heavy so she hunches over. I am going to hide under her bed. Daddy’s bulge is hidden under there. Mummy keeps it a secret, but I know. Her bed is thin and much too long and her black hair is tangled up in the sheets. The scent of her sweat stained cushion lingers into my nostrils and down to my lungs as I crawl under, deeper into the dark stinking pit at the centre.
I see the warm shadows from the final seconds of sun dance through the handmade curtains at her window. Mummy took the skin off daddy’s body to make those. His bellybutton, still attached to his torso skin, looks like a little crystal in the golden light. The pretty shadows disappear, and the room is black. I can hear mummy looking for me. She’s laughing through that muffled slit on her face. There is death in her eyes and a tremor in her shrieking that makes me nervous. She is angry now. I wasn’t in the linen cupboard this time. I am too smart for her.
I curl in on myself in the safety of the dark and wiggle my loose teeth in waiting. The nights are slow because I cannot sleep. I never sleep. Mummy is still running around the house looking for me, grunts of anticipation much louder, much more feral, than any wild animal. A pool of blood starts to swirl under my head where a loose tooth has fallen. Not good. Mummy smells blood as much as she craves it. The door creaks open. Two long feet stand still in the doorway, toes curling from excitement at the scent of her baby’s blood. I pray I do not end up as curtains and dolls like daddy. Mummy is on the bed; she is digging up the insides of her mattress. Maybe if I stay still enough, she won’t find me. I want to be brave, like daddy was.
I roll onto my back, there's a big hole in the mattress above my head. My eyes take seconds to adjust to the darkness above before I see Mummy’s dewy eyes beaming into mine. “My baby is here” the tight line where her mouth has been stretched starts to open slightly and she drools on me through her words. Her hand pokes through the slats in the bed and she pinches my cheeks until blood pours out. “We need more dolls, baby. We need this skin”. Warm water leaks from my eyes onto the tips of her fingers where blood gushes. She draws her hand away and I feel her tugging at my feet, grunting like an impatient child. I cannot kick, for her fingers reach from her palms to my thighs. I am paralyzed in her grip, and I let her pull me out from under my final hiding spot. I am dragged by my blood-stained hair to the backyard where mummy likes to play.
“Mummy is thirsty, baby? You can’t keep all that blood. You’re not selfish”
Her muffled words are comprehensible enough to foresee the fate at which I am now destined for. I am here to feed her, to fuel her life, as she once did me. In the way shadows chase the light, how the moon must always put the sun to rest, birth must give way to death. In turn I must give life, my flesh and bone, to the creator of my life and my light. To return to the darkness that will always encompass her. it is her right.
Mummy is agitated, every evening she watches the sun set the way a round bellied man would watch a football game. Almost like she’s cheering it on, let the darkness surround us and she will be set loose. I will not hide under the bed tonight, she found me just as the night lifted. She’s excited because she thinks I’ll be there again; I’ll be easy to find this time. I won’t end up like daddy, who hangs rotten over the windows, or sister, whose skin decorates mummy’s lamps, her eyes adorning mummy’s neck on molded string. Ever since mummy took sister, her body lingers taller and heavier over itself, blood from sister's insides are still crusted around mummies mouth, her skin is tucked dried out and dead under mummies long fingernails. I miss sister, though I do not wish to join her.

Hey guys so....
apologies in adv for the wording on this ...i just need to air my shit out to someone and i'm sick of ruminating over stuff with my irl friends...it's embarrassing...and i want to finally LET GO...but i want some potential insight from more experienced relationship...havers. lol (I'm 24 and this is in regards to my first ever boyfriend ...well now ex...who's 32 btw lol)
I've been on and off with this guy since late 2022...it's been pretty toxic from the start but I wouldn't let go because I'm shallow and he was just my type lol...forget the fact that he was incompatible with me in almost every other way lol, in any case...it's gotten rather violent, messy and disturbing throughout our relationship, every time we've 'broken up' i was the one to initiate it...but also almost every time we got back together it was ME coming back to him...so I definitely acknowledge the big part I played in my own mental anguish...but Idk what it was about him and/or our dynamic and/or most likely my own attachment issues/absentee daddy and horrid mommy issues lol....but I couldn't stop fixating on our relationship and obsessing over him when we'd part ways.
Fast fwd to 3 months ago i got diagnosed with ovarian cancer..he was really supportive initially even though my treatment could mean we could never have kids (he claimed he didn't care...:/ which i never believed -- cuz he's always talking about wanting to have kids...which i never wanted..another reason i should have never continuing pursuing him but...whatever lol)..
but i deeply appreciated him being there for me and i almost started feeling like i owed him, like i was indebted because he wanted to stick with me no matter what...like I HAD to stay in the relationship now...but recently he's been so cold towards me lol...like when I'm in agonizing pain at night like I usually am nowadays, i'll be grunting loudly and sometimes even screaming crying...he'll be bothered/annoyed...even when I verbally ask him to not come over so I won't keep him up...he insists to come over but won't even bother calming me down anymore...it's like i'm an inconvenience and he's sick of me being sick....there's always a chance i'm projecting...or I'm misreading it but one thing is for certain...he's not being as gentle and loving as he used to be with me...Could be resentment could be....he wants me to break up with him again (although i doubt it lol)
3 Days ago, we had a big argument and by argument it's usually him just belittling me over setting really reasonable boundaries lol (he was pretty drunk - i don't drink...and that's something I've already been turned off by for a long time but kept pushing it away..) so he just kind of threatened that he'd leave my apt after just having arrived...which he's done before...but i would usually almost beg him to stay but this time...it was very weird....I was very calm...mildly irritated at our argument, but i was no longer an emotional wreck, i was actually ready for him to leave my apt....but i didn't know i was ready to also break it off, until he left. I usually do the essay/dissertation long texts when I break it off with him in an attempt to come across as the good guy and protect his feelings...but this time it was a very concise text that literally consisted of "...let's break up." and "Block my number. I swear on my Mother's life and father's grave I'll never hit you up again".....yeah...I just impulsively texted that....no drafting, no proof reading, no calling up friends and reconsidering....(ofc all my friends are anti-him tho lol)
it's just so weird that I've finally sincerely accepted that I don't care if I'm going to be the villain in his story...which is what I think was holding me back in the past break ups...I didn't want to be seen or remembered as a villain by him...but I think I finally accepted it doesn't matter and I almost wish I played the part for real.
Important to note..I'm naturally a very emotional person + I've had major depressive disorder since I was 12 and I'm generally hyper sensitive...and when it comes to him...well, historically paired with my mental illnesses...came this really nasty obsessiveness over him despite all his red flags + MY OWN RED FLAGS that showed up around him. I don't want to act like this guy is all garbage btw, he has great qualities just not right for me...I don't like demonizing people entirely and I hate feeling like a hyporcrite but anyways......
Why is it that this time? I sincerely do NOT care....each time I've broken up with him, I've held on to all our pictures/the things he's gotten me/even unblocked him on stuff eventually but this time....I CHANGED MY FUCKING NUMBER ON THE SAME NIGHT HE LEFT lol....I'm almost nearing the end of my lease at the current place I'm staying at and I'm looking forward to him not knowing where I live..I started mass deleting a bunch of pics/videos of us (and i don't delete ANYTHING lol)...It literally feels like I've shut down and I'm scared because I'm like does this mean this is just a phase and I'll be hit by the excruciating break up blues eventually?...I'm scared and anxious as fuck...Like why am I...fine?
LOL...I'm not thinking about him like I usually do after a break up, this instantaneous sense of relief..is cool I guess but it's quite jarring...I guess I've just been over him for a while so maybe that's why I'm not in shambles..and I'm so much more secure in my decision...?....because I'm like if you're willing to berate me, hurt me, not make any compromises even if you think my FeElinGs are dumb...do all that..even as I battle CANCER loooool....then yeah I guess I finally regained my back bone..lol cuz wtf
Sorry for this nonsensical post, i hope someone can follow... thanks to whoever reads the whole thing. I'm spiraling about the lack of emotions as an emotional person but I'm simultaneously grateful and I just hope this lasts and I eventually forget everything with the quickness. I'm trying to "ride the wave" but I've never experienced a wave that started off so...securely nonchalant if that makes any sense...Each break up with him was so devestating...this would be our fourth and I guess my mind and body checked out?
I just want to focus on my health...and start a new...and be single with no intent to get in a relationship again....cuz this relationship almost made me forget how much I love being alone.
Let me know if you have any thoughts or similar experiences <3 :/

Here's original thread: https://www.reddit.com/tipofmytongue/comments/1avee9o/tomtmovie2000s_looking_for_the_title_of_the_movie/
I'm looking for a thriller movie (not horror definitely) from 90s or 2000s (it isn't newer than 2012). It was probably a TV movie. It was about an epidemic of a virus that causes coughing up blood. The main character's husband became infected with this virus, ended up in the hospital, the doctors there examined him and tried to cure him. It seems to me that the woman regularly came to the hospital to hear from the doctors how her husband was doing and whether there was any progress in investigating the mysterious disease in order to find a cure for it. But the doctors were helpless, unable to save him, and he eventually died. Somehow, not long after his death, a terrible scene took place in which a woman returns home and finds that her daughter has also contracted the virus, finding her ominously pale and coughing blood into her hands. The daughter was maybe 12-13 years old and had long, straight, loose hair, probably dark blond. The virus caused such a strong cough that there were broken ribs and punctured lungs.

My dad has abused me since I was 4 years old, and it still is happening now that I’m 25. He knows if he touches a hair on my body I will beat the shit out of him. I’m (25m) stronger then him now, he knows he can’t hurt me anymore physically. He’s physically, abused me in the past, emotionally abused me, verbally abused me. He did it again today, and let me tell you something that’ll paint a picture of how much of a monster he is.
So, I had a blood clot in the artery of my left leg. I couldn’t feel it, my leg got cold and lost color. I could only limp, I could barely walk. This fucker, accused me of faking it. He kicked me out of the car because I stood up for myself and made me walk home 5 minutes away knowing I was having a very hard time walking. He called me horrible names, threatened me that he’s going to kick me out (he was bluffing, says it all the time). But get this: he refused to take me to a hospital for FOUR while days. When he finally took me, they took some tests.
We’ll look at that, a blood clot that could’ve KILLED ME. We get to the ER, and I had to have emergency operation to remove the blood clot. The surgeon says “we may have to amputate your leg”. My dad broke down, and i tried to make him feel better. I told him “it’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”. That was a lie. I despise him for not taking me, I can’t feel 50% of my leg because he waited to long to take me and the nerve endings died.
I have two gigantic scars on my leg, and to get to the blood clot they had to also remove some muscle from my leg. It took me 4 months to recover and start walking again. But I still can’t feel 50% of my leg. If I touched it, I don’t feel anything. I would’ve been able to feel it had he believed me and took me to the hospital.
Here’s where I’m at, he told me I should kill myself, that I’m a fucking idiot and a piece of shit, that I should’ve died on the operating table, and said to me I should be on the street. He also has said he will not help me with my meds, despite the fact that I given him so much money for bills when I was I was working, somewhere around $1,200. I also gave him my tax return money.
I’m trapped here, I have no way out, no money and no job. He knows that I’m depressed and that I’m applying for social security insurance, that I’m in no condition to work. He constantly abuses me verbally, and I got sick of it: so I yelled back for the first time.
Well here is where I’m at, a bottle of a bunch of pregabalin. I want to eat them all and die, I am tired of the abuse. I want the pain he inflicts on me to go away, but I’m trapped. He’s hurt me emotionally, verbally, and physically. I can’t take it anymore, I’m thinking of ending things. But I can’t, my boyfriend would be hurt so badly if I did that. I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to die.

Do you know the first rule they drill into you about wilderness survival? Never panic. But that's easier said than done. No matter how seasoned you think you are, no matter the toughness you claim, the moment you realize you are completely alone, with no clear path home, panic doesn’t just creep in—it floods you. The true test lies not in avoiding this terror but in mastering the art of regaining your composure once fear has taken hold.
I was eleven years old then, on a week-long trip to Havasupai with my church group sometime in August. I never really believed in anything they talked about on Sundays, but I was from a poor family and they always paid for my trips. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. In fact, I wouldn’t have had much of a childhood at all if not for them.
If you’ve never been to Havasupai, imagine this: after trekking a grueling half-marathon through the sun-blasted, arid expanses of the Grand Canyon, you stumble upon an untouched paradise of rivers and waterfalls, a verdant oasis that defies the desolate landscape around it. Look it up—pictures don’t do it justice, but they come close.
But I digress. The hike there is a downward trek of 10 miles. Naturally, the return is its uphill counterpart. Picture this: a slightly pudgy eleven-year-old me, trudging uphill 10 miles in ninety-degree heat.
It was manageable, though, as long as we stayed in our groups. We were a few dozen strong, so those of us who were slower started in front. Fatigue set in quickly, and I fell back to the next group. Another twenty minutes, and I dropped back again, each step a growing struggle.
The trail was a ribbon between towering stone walls carved by creeks over millennia, with other stretches laid bare beneath the unforgiving sun, the foliage cleared away.
I can't pinpoint exactly how it happened. I was staring at my feet, the soft thud of my water bottle against my thigh marking each step, my mind adrift in a sea of fatigue and heat. When I looked up, I found myself in a clearing, the path I had been following vanished, replaced by the random scatter of sagebrush under the harsh sun. I backtracked, hoping to find the trail, but it was as if it had evaporated.
Panic set in, tears streaming down my face as I broke into a desperate sprint. After a minute, the trail was still nowhere in sight. I turned, running, screaming for help, but my voice was swallowed by the vastness of the canyon.
My heart was a drumbeat against my chest, my mouth dry as I looked at the quarter-liter of water in my bottle—just a few sips left. I was going to die. That was the only thought in my mind. I ran in another direction, my voice hoarse as I screamed again, "HELP! HELP!" I pushed on for minutes that felt like hours, but there was nothing—only the relentless, hot, desolate landscape stretching out endlessly around me.
The sun bore down, turning the canyon into a furnace, the heat mirroring the mounting hysteria in my mind. I looked around the vast canyon – what looked like miles in any direction – for any sign of life. Any dots of trekkers on the rim. Anything. Anything. But there was nothing. It was around 2 p.m., and the sun wasn’t going down any time soon. In my desperation I cried out for God to please save me, but still, silence.
To be honest, "I'm going to die" wasn't a coherent thought in my head; it was more primal than that—a visceral sensation that grips you. Those who have felt it know what I mean. It's not about thinking in words; it's about experiencing a raw, unfiltered surge of dread. Panic is the essence of fear, a state where planning and logic are drowned out by an overwhelming wave of despair.
I collapsed onto the scorched earth, feeling the sting of the hot sand against my hands and knees. My tears fell, disappearing almost instantly as they met the ground, a poignant symbol of my fleeting life being consumed by the unforgiving soul of the desert.
As I sat there, a small but vibrant splash of color caught my eye—a red bird, flitting from one parched tree to another. It was the first sign of life I had seen in what felt like an eternity. The sight of it sparked a flicker of hope in my heart. Perhaps, I thought, this bird knows where to find water.
Driven by a mix of desperation and instinct, I followed the bird. It seemed almost aware of my presence, waiting for me from branch to branch. My pace quickened, my eyes locked on this beacon of red against the bleached sky.
The bird led me through a less trodden path, dotted with the occasional greenery that managed to survive in this harsh environment. And then, ahead, I saw something—or rather, someone. There was a Native American man sitting on a fallen log, the red bird perched calmly on his shoulder.
He looked up as I approached, his eyes meeting mine with a depth of understanding that was almost unsettling. "Are you lost?" he asked, his voice gentle, echoing strangely in the vast silence of the canyon.
I could only nod, wiping away the tears and dust that clung to my face, trying to steady my breath.
"Then rejoice, for you have been found," he said, his tone warm.
I stood there, the awkwardness clinging to me like the heat. "Can you help me find the trail?" I managed to ask, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"You’re already on a trail," he replied with a gentle smile.
"But it’s not my trail," I protested.
“It’s a trail, and it’s the one you’re on,” he countered.
I was confused. The raw fear that clouded my mind had begun to subside, and I felt clear thoughts slowly coming back to me."I need to find my group," I insisted.
“The group that left you to die in this heat?” he snapped back, his tone suddenly sharp. “Seems like they’re the ones that need to find you.”
His words stung as I realized the truth in his statement. I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts.
The man's eyes lingered on me for a moment, then he nodded slowly. "I can help you find your way home. But you must listen carefully. Follow the echo of my voice, and you will be safe."
I knew it was strange, but it was my only option so I simply nodded in agreement. He stood up from the log, the red bird fluttering to a nearby branch, watching intently. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, his voice ringing through the air, "This way!"
The echo reverberated through the canyon walls, fading into the distance. I listened intently, and after a moment, I heard the echo return, faint but unmistakable: "This way..."
I turned back to thank the man, but he had vanished. Only the red bird remained, hopping between branches, tilting its head as if to beckon me forward.
I took a deep breath and began to follow the bird. It led me through the rocky terrain, flitting from branch to branch, pausing occasionally to ensure I was still behind. I listened for the echo of the voice, and every now and then, it would come again, faint but clear: "This way..."
I walked for what felt like hours, through rocky terrain and across sun-scorched patches of desert. The red bird was my only guide, hopping ahead, then pausing to make sure I was still following. The familiar echo sounded intermittently, "This way..." drawing me forward.
The canyon twisted and wound around itself, and I felt disoriented, but the bird remained steady. I scrambled over loose stones, ducked beneath overhanging branches, and navigated through narrow passageways as the sun bore down relentlessly.
At one point, the bird perched atop a barren tree, and I heard the echo again, "This way..." faint but clear. I followed, feeling the sting of sand against my cheeks as the wind picked up. My throat was parched, and my legs ached, but I pushed on.
The bird led me to a small clearing surrounded by towering canyon walls. For a moment, I thought I was still lost, but then I heard the distant voices of my group.
"Brandon! Brandon!"
The group turned as one and ran toward me, relief washing over their faces. They hugged me, patting my back, and bombarded me with questions.
"Where were you?"
"We were so worried!"
"Thank God you're safe!"
Warmth spread through my chest as I looked around at their familiar faces. I was overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. They handed me water and snacks, and I quickly gulped them down. The leaders fussed over me, checking for signs of heat exhaustion.
"You're going to be okay," one of them said reassuringly.
I smiled and nodded, feeling a sense of safety for the first time in hours. I sat down on a rock, letting the cool breeze wash over me, as the group gathered around, chatting and laughing.
But just as I was about to speak, I heard a whisper on the wind, "This way..."
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "I... I have to go," I stammered, backing away.
The leader's voice deepened. "You're not going anywhere."
In that moment, I heard the whisper again, urgent and clear: "This way..."
I spun around and bolted, shoving past the clawing hands and running toward the ridge. I could hear them behind me, their voices rising in a cacophony of shrieks and howls.
I glanced back once and saw the group standing in a line at the edge of the clearing, their faces twisted in anger, their eyes burning with a malevolent glow. They watched me with predatory intent, their laughter echoing through the canyon.
I ran faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until I heard the voice again, closer this time, "This way..."
The red bird fluttered ahead, guiding me through the twisting paths of the canyon. I followed, barely daring to look back, until I stumbled upon a familiar part of the trail. I recognized the marker stones and the way the path curved around a large boulder.
Ahead, I saw another group of people, and my heart leaped with relief when I recognized the faces of my real friends. They looked up as I approached, their expressions a mix of shock and joy.
"Brandon! There you are!" one of the leaders cried, rushing to me and wrapping me in a tight hug. "We were so worried!"
"I... I got lost," I managed to say, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked around at the familiar faces. "But I'm okay now."
The group gathered around me, offering water and snacks, and fussing over me with genuine concern. As I sat down to rest, I noticed the red bird perched on a nearby tree branch, watching silently.
I smiled and gave a small nod of gratitude. The bird chirped softly and flew away, disappearing into the bright blue sky.
I listened carefully for the voice, but all I heard was the laughter and chatter of my friends. The canyon was still, and for the first time since I had gotten lost, I felt truly safe.
It's been twenty years since that day in Havasupai, and honestly, I'd almost forgotten about it. Life moved on, and the memories of that canyon faded into the hazy backdrop of childhood. But every now and then, something happens that brings it all rushing back.
Last week, I got a message from Mark, one of my old friends from the church group. He suggested we catch up over a few drinks at a local bar. I hadn't spoken to him in ages, but I figured it would be nice to reconnect.
The bar was dimly lit, and Mark was already sitting at a table in the corner when I arrived. He hadn't changed much—still the same lanky frame, still laughing too loudly at his own jokes. He greeted me with a firm handshake and a grin.
"Brandon! Long time no see, my friend. How've you been?"
"Not bad," I replied, smiling. "How about you?"
We exchanged small talk for a while, reminiscing about old times and filling in the gaps of the years that had passed. He seemed warm and genuine, but there was something off about his eyes—something intense and unsettling.
After a few drinks, Mark leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Hey, remember that camping trip to Havasupai?"
"Yeah, of course. Hard to forget that one."
A smile flickered across his lips. "Yeah. We were all so worried when you were gone. But you weren’t really lost, were you?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling a chill creep up my spine.
He chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sometimes the ones who get lost don't really get to come back."
I nervously shifted in my seat and took a sip of my drink before changing topics.
A few minutes later, he suggested that we check out his new car. He seemed quite proud of it, so I obliged.
We put on our jackets and headed out into the cold night. The wind bit at my face as we turned down an unlit alley toward the parking lot. Mark walked ahead of me, humming softly, his breath visible in the frigid air.
As we approached the lot, I glanced up and noticed a red bird perched on top of a stoplight, its bright plumage stark against the darkness. It cocked its head to the side and chirped softly.
Then I heard it, faint but unmistakable, carried on the wind: "This way..."

Our relationship has always been complicated. We're both neurodivergent and have had issues with each other since we were young. There's so much that can't be summed up in a reddit post, but I can try sharing the basic details.
My sister and I have been watching a TV show together (Brooklyn 99, if anyone is wondering) and I made a mistake. She texted me early into the day to make plans for us to watch and I agreed. She got back from her errand with my dad and said she was going to finish watching an episode of a different show with him. I decided to take a nap while waiting, as I have hypersomnia and can struggle to stay awake during things even if I'm very interested in what's happening, and I wanted to make sure I would be fully awake while we watched together.
Long story short, I didn’t come in due to falling asleep (i thought the show they were watching was like 40 minutes; it was 20), my dad tried getting me to come in (but only told me when i was barely conscious and even now can't really remember what he said) and she got upset I never came in and swore we would never watch it together and this was the last straw.
I decided to try to bring it up and see if I could mend that bridge, which...did not go well. She got our mom to judge/make sure the conversation stayed constructive, and it slowly spiraled into our relationship in general and how this has just been the latest problem stemming from the underlying issue of our relationship.
The main points brought up were this (in order of ages)

• when she was first born and I was a young kid, our older brother (7 at the time? I think? Maybe a bit older) would always call her the 'favorite sister' simply for existing. This was the root of a lot of later self-esteem issues and the feeling of needing to prove myself/i was never good enough. She was a baby, this wasn't her fault, but it still affected me (my brother also had a lot of issues when he was younger as well, but that is a completely different can of worms)
  
• fast forward to when we were slightly older, and we would play together, mainly rough housing. I loved to play with her, but realized over time that I would always get in trouble doing so. As a kid, I had a hard time controlling my strength and would often end up accidentally hurting her, and then proceeding to get in trouble/be scolded for hurting her. So in my kid brain, the logic was, "If I'm always going to get in trouble for playing with my sister, if I stop, I won't get in trouble anymore"
  
• this lead to me rejecting her when we were growing up in her attempts to play and build a connection, as I grew older and more introverted, struggled to make friends and mainly retreated into reading books.
  
• then in middle school, after years of her being rejected, it swapped. I tried reaching out to her, hanging out with her at school, but she didn't want me there as her older sister hanging around her and her friends (fair enough). This was consistent till I ended up leaving her alone and stopped reaching out.
  
• our relationship slightly improved during the covid times, as we were able to bond over the fact we are both LGBTQ+ in our catholic household, and she was in the closet from our family for years (i came out almost as soon as I realized I was bisexual; she's lesbian).
  
• this leads to now, where she tries reaching out in the form of watching shows together. I would make plans with others, and then she would ask afterwards, causing me to reject her because I already made plans.
  

She felt she was forcing everything and... I don't blame her. I do geninuely enjoy watching shows with her, but I would feel I would end up watching for much longer than I personally wanted to (several times convincing me to watch like four episodes in a row of a 24 minute show when I expressed i only wanted to watch one or two. Once she even managed to make me watch six episodes of Once Upon A Time at once, with those episodes being 40 minutes each.....yeah)
When i would reject her for other reasons, she would state she would start without me and get ahead and wouldn't rewatch the episodes she already watched, so I would just have to miss them if I didn't come in right now.
This is all barely scratching the surface of our issues, but I hope it at least paints a picture of how our relationship has been strained over the years.
I don't want any moral judgements, I know I've done wrong, and she's done wrong as well. I just want to be able to improve our relationship. I'm frankly not sure if it's even really possible.
When our Mom was meditating and said it would require us to both become more flexible and give each other more compassion and understanding, I agreed to try. My sister didn't, to which my mom responded how in this specific case, she's holding a grudge for the sake of being hurt and upset.
I love my sister, but I just...don't know how to reach out to her. How do you reach out to a person who you love but....can't communicate with?
She feels neglected, and I always nowadays feel hesitant to try to reach out through interests and whatnot considering she often makes fun of me for my different interests (anime, manga, danmei) and I just...don't know. I feel we're never on the same page and struggle communicating, even when helped. She expressed wanting a sister relationship like you see on TV where the older sister gives advice and braids the youngers hair and etc etc, so I know we both want the same thing just....aren’t sure how to get there.
Would like some advice on how to try to repair our relationship.

I’d been collecting old cameras for as long as I could remember, but none caught my interest quite like the one I found at the dusty corner of an estate sale. It was a classic—a 1950s Leica, its black body still gleaming under the layers of age and neglect. What sealed the deal was the roll of undeveloped film still nestled inside.
I was ecstatic about the find. As I developed the film in my darkroom, the photographs emerged slowly, revealing what seemed to be ordinary family portraits. There was a woman with perfectly curled hair and a bright smile, a man with a stern look softened by the child he held in his arms. All perfectly normal—if it weren’t for the subtleties.
In the first photo, the family was lined up by an old oak tree, the father’s eyes not on the camera, but staring off to something just out of frame. His expression was one of disquiet. The next photo showed the child, her eyes wide and tearful, looking not at the camera but at the same unseen point, her small body tense as if ready to run.
Each successive photo told a similar story. The family, always in different settings—their quaint living room, a local park, their dining room—always with their attention directed at something just beyond the picture's edge. A creeping unease settled over me.
The last photo on the roll was different. It was taken inside the house, in what looked like the living room. All three were in the frame as though someone else had taken the photo. They weren’t smiling. Instead, they stood close together, the father holding a baseball bat, the mother clutching the child so tightly it must have hurt. All of them stared directly at the camera, or rather, through it. Their faces pleading with me, begging me for help.
I shook off the initial shock, rationalizing that it was a staged series of photos meant to spook whoever developed them. Yet sleep eluded me that night. Every creak and sigh of my house sounded like stealthy footsteps, every shadow seemed to conceal a lurking figure.
The next morning, driven by morbid curiosity, I decided to find out more about the camera’s previous owners. My search led me to an old newspaper article about the Delaney family who had vanished in the late 50s, leaving their home undisturbed, dinner still on the table, the TV still on. They were never found, and no explanation ever fit the scene.
As I read the article, the room chilled. The feeling of being watched crept over me, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Reluctantly, I turned to look behind me, half-expecting to see the family standing there, still begging for help. There was nothing, of course. Just the shadows.
But sometimes, late at night, I swear I can hear the faint click of a camera shutter and the quiet whispers of a family, stuck forever just out of sight.

Been wrestling with some conflicting feelings the last week, and I’m glad I found this sub.
I went very low contact with my Q a few years ago. I would still see them for holidays, birthdays and that sort of thing. When she was drinking her heaviest, she would call me everyday, usually to “vent” about anything and everything. By vent, I mean scream drunkenly at me for not caring enough about whatever her problems were that day. I digress.
My Q spiraled into very heavy drinking after my grandpa died in 2010. It was years of progressively worse drinking. She would work jobs here and there but otherwise just drank her vodka-sugarfree monsters all day long. If she ran out, she would beg me to get her another handle of vodka. “OP can you ‘run to the store for me.’” Code for get me vodka or I’ll throw a tantrum. God forbid I refused. All hell would break loose. (And it did, frequently). I realized I was enabling her but didn’t know what to do about it.
She had a few sewer slide attempts (lost count after the 5th), and bouts in the hospital for a number of things. All were related in way or another to her drinking.
She eventually got into therapy, got on medication and chilled out a bit. Never fully stopped drinking. Just cut back. She opened up about her childhood trauma and I could understand it better. Things got better for a while. Thought we were past it all.
Until she had a massive stroke last week. Can’t talk, can’t eat, can’t move half her body, can’t do anything really. Not even sure if she recognized me when I went to see her. Doctors said her history of alcohol abuse (along with cigarettes) were more than likely the culprit.
It’s hard to express exactly what I was feeling, but after a day I think I just accepted it? She had been in the hospital so many times, so close to dying, that I’ve been numb to it. I feel guilty for not feeling worse about it. My birthday is tomorrow, and this will be the 4th birthday in the last 8 years she’s been in the hospital.
Maybe I should have put the vent tag instead of newcomer, but oh well. I am new here. Not sure what I’m hoping to get out of this post. But if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading.

After 3 months, you proposed the break-up but I executed it by agreeing. I heard, faintly, in your voice, the plea for me to fight for you, for us. To give you the unconditional love that I'm certain you would have given me if the awful situation was reversed. It wouldn't have been wise for you to do...it could have up-ended your life...but you would've stayed...In response to my agreement, you only said 'Goodbye' and I never heard from you again. Your immediate silence tore me up, I wrote odes to myself for days, frantically attempting to interpret or reframe your silence as anything but final. Six weeks later and I'm still checking your Facebook page to make sure you haven't removed our pictures...and you haven't...but you unfriended me as soon as the call ended...is there still hope or am I an idiot for desiring such when I've already broken your trust by walking away?...
As far as unconditional love...I'd sacrificed myself for someone before. I left with three years of trauma and a life almost up-ended due to a foolish hope for any amount of change. I was afraid, here, that I would sacrifice myself again, only to get hurt within a very - you admitted it yourself - toxic, chaotic situation. You saw the issues and how dangerous they were. I didn't understand why someone who purportedly wanted to protect me would ask me to stay with those factors present. But then, you just wanted to know that I loved you and trusted that you would take care of things...
I miss you so very much and wish I could help - you probably wouldn't believe that....I can't say 'I love you' because I know you'd hear that as a lie since I'm not with you. But I can't pick up the psychological, physical, and emotional expectations/demands/requests of a wife as a girlfriend of only three months.
I miss you and I see you in everything. I started a gallery, storing reels, memes, paintings, etc. entitled 'if we ever talk again'...I've had ideas come to mind about gifts I could've bought or made for you....I've seen things I wish we could've witnessed together...when I hear jokes, I ache to hear your laugh...I want to know the details of your days - I'm missing out on so many Good things aside from the issues...
OneRepublic's 'Apologize', Noah Kahan's 'Hurt Somebody', and Laufey's 'Promise' ring in my ears....for better or for worse, I go to sleep with 'Promise' playing on repeat - if it wasn't 'Promise' it'd be our song...
"It hurts to be something It's worse to be nothing with you...."
I miss you. Rationally, I feel that things couldn't have worked, not yet. Emotionally, I want you back, I want to help, I want to somehow juggle the chaos of my life with that of yours and make it work. I also want tangible evidence as to how things have changed and what steps you've taken. But this all requires time. I know you're consistent. So, maybe it's just a matter of time...I miss you. But if I couldn't meet your needs when you needed me, then it's likely that I never deserved you to begin with....I was afraid of losing myself again and instead I let you go - perhaps to my own detriment, in the long run....I understand if you never speak to me again, I just wish I had the courage to face the demons you're fighting.
You are such a darling and so very, very wonderful - I can only see myself as an utter failure for failing to show you exactly how wonderful you are. I wish I could hold you right now - I wish so, so much that I could hold you. You're probably better off without me in the picture, I suppose....I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough for the situation and I'm sorry that I didn't give you more time....but reaching out to you now...the thought is almost a joke, seeing as how much damage I did by leaving without any attempt at further mitigating the already rotting situation...
My spirit was so tired of being run over with traumatic issues at every turn - far exceeding what I would've understood to be a significant measure of understandable baggage. During almost every other conversation there'd be a new glaring red flag or issue to resolve from the past. Issues that should have been addressed before you sought out a relationship - you told me as much, I hadn't suggested it. You can't, you can't ask someone to drown with you when you haven't put the work into healing....changing your lifestyle is only part of it - and so much of 'lifestyle' is mere aesthetics. And yet I'm faulting myself for leaving because I STILL could have helped...and lost myself, but for the good of you...I can't spiral for years...I couldn't fake being 'okay' with the situation for weeks....I wish I'd have just said 'let's keep trying but take some space - I'm here, but you've said that you need some time to take care of this, so, let's regroup at the end of next week and see how things are going.' But no. Of course I had to be the one to pull the trigger first. Even then, in doing so there were other things that contributed to the decision...you wanted kids desperately and I wanted to want them as much as you did. I see children as inherently good but I would have had them mostly because you would've made a great parent....but that's not fair to you, you deserve someone who is beyond excited to have children...
You'll remove the pictures of us, eventually...and that's when I'll give myself permission to get over you...I try to have self-control and stay away from your profile, but those pictures contain the sliver of hope that my stupidly desperate heart clings to.
The emptiness, the weight of your absence crushes my heart every night and then again as soon as I awake...
Maybe you'll come back...I hope you do...but I understand if you don't...that may be for the best...what a mess...I miss you...