My LIfe Is Worth More Than 36 Apples I was am a sole from this point on. The moths of darkness just began a fetus in the woumb. Both mother and father have litle knolige of my existance my begening is heare hethy with nknone emosion untill I was sliced from my mother. My parents fell in love with me from the begening little did they know that tere was somthing wrong. It was not there falt I think that I loved them at that point to. I was dieing. My heart broken by imprefection that only flesh offers to the potentialy imortal relm of God placed soil named Earth. Spoler alert I servive otherwise you would not be reading this. One day out of my life I fely horible sick beyond what the doctors had already fixed I was dieing still alive but dieing why they “forgot” ( neglected) to tell my parents that I have a paralised vocla chord is beond even my ant’s comprehencion and she is a sergical nerce. What made them fear my parents? What made them fear so much that they could not tell my perents what hppened? I ask these questions so often that I wonder why I servived. That is when one day out of my life I felt amasing like God was truly there to witness me changing to somthing worth more than any dimond in the world. My parents kept me alive by questining the doctors did so little. My grandmother prayed so much I wonder how I survived. One day of my life I felt horible Thank the lord that I was not dieing my great gradfather was putt to sleap in his grave I now have a feading tube one year old no birthday cake for me. I gess that there is where my life chages yet again. I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life I felt Exuberant I am two years old ,Birthday cake ;-) Yay, my first ever the tube is gone. My parrents still wotty but they realy don’t have to any more until laiter. Gram is there. So is most of my family. I love my gram so much at this point I would taher be at her houce than at home there is so much I still have to live for. One day out of my life I feal loved I am at home having fun with my gram telling her stories that I make up as I go along. She loves me I know it in my heart. There are not enugh words, colors, and sounds to describe what I felt in this world at that moment for my little mind to wrap its gentle fingers around I am less than five years old so the only resion that I remember is a home movie. It is a wonder that I survived. One day out of my life it is near cristmass I could be five but I am not certan I thaught tis memory a dream until my mother told me the story. I was sick enugh that my parents thaught that I was dieing. I had an ear infection, pnumonya, and somthing elce my mother can not remenber. I wonder why I survived. One day out of my life I am still five and going to kindergaden I love to run around and hide out undeneath the slides if only I knew what the world was than I probabley whould not have kissed a boy on the lips so soon. I shold have knone that such an act as this was for the day of prom or highscool. I was definatly not ready for being in love, nor was I ready to kiss boys impishly under the that particular Emitsberg Elimentery slide. The boy’s confusion was so great that I belive he ither liked me or he did not know who I was to tell the teacher what had happened. Ither way I grew up way to quikly and at the same time to slowly for my mothers liking. I would barly clean my room thak the lord for her patince at this poit in my life, other wise I woder how I did survive. One day out of my life I was in first grade imaging what life would be like on the moon. I was listening to the teacher but I could not for the life of me was i being sent to lern how to read and wright when I already knew how to do both of those things. What where they thinking I neaded more help with math than with reading and spelling I could study those wordes and sentance structures. Why did they chose to give me exta practice in my faverite subject the only problem I had was telling lowecace B’s from lowercace D’s until a nice teacher taught me a trick invalving the word bed. Putt your fingers on your left hand so that it resembles a lowecace B than have your fongers on your right hand resemble a lowercace D place coth hannds together and make a bed B.E.D. that was somthing that realy helped it was so ingraind in my nogin that after just that one clarifacaition I had the difrence betwean D and D down pat. I read Juny B. Jones boks up the wasoo after that and most of my class was reading picture books that where to easy so I stoped reading them. I didn’t check out books from the scool library because I had books at home to read if I remember corectly. My parents sau that it was the comprehensin part I gess that I understood the book’s meaning but not the questin of “ How did the caractar change throughout the story?” silly me I putt ( this is acording to my mother) “The carictar did nit change throuout the story. There is no mension of her getting dresset,” I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life i am repeating first grade. I thaught that there where only two years of school I thaught that if i passed this year that i would not have to go to school any more nobosy told me otherwise because i kept the thaught to myself because i was so sure that I was corect that I did not tell a sole nor, angel, not even God, but I gess he knew that anyway even without me telling him. I gess that if God dose laph that he might have been lafing at me and I would laph with him once I came to realise my childish ignerance at the age of seven and a half. I realy do not know why I relised that particalar fanticy was falce but I gess that visiters from the fith grade shook that idea right past my young lips and took me from that faticy I was somhow living in at the time. As I wright this I am sitiosly remided of that anoying yet cachy toon of the Caillou theme song whn it said “ Growing up is not so tuff…” I would like to add to that paticular snippit by saying that being or fealing grown up is the hard part. Thank the lord I was still just growing up at this point otherwise I have no clue of how i would have survived. One day out of my life I learn that Gram is moving to West Bend I was so confused because I remember saying to her that “ we will live togther forever.” than she aked me with such a look upon her face that surly I had no anser to this “what if I move?” my anser to this of corce was “we will move to” I loved my grandmother so much at that point that I thaught that my parents not looking for a new houce was a betrayel of what was going on until... One day out of my life I find out that we are moving at first I thaught that this would remidy the we will live togerhher forever situaiton, but it just only remidied the if you move we move situaiton. This was just after I found out that we where moving from Airshire to Ankeny instad of to West Bend this is in ither late may or early june we are looking for a place to live we looked at some two story houces but we came upon this nice single story ranch it is a nice place to be but I wish that I did not tell the reliter that I “ felt at home here” honestly there where less pressing matters of where we would be going to school and how long it would take to move all of our stuff to the new place that I would have to call home but I never realy did in my heart Gram’s houce was my true home from that point on. It is a wonder that we suvived. One day out of my life it is june 16th my birthday I have just terned egiht years old and this is just the begening of when I have started to really pray and recognise what prayer is to me I don’t realy expect God to answer me at this point in my life becase I reay did not know that God could truly anser quite directly or even ask of you things. I just thaught that God knows everything so he realy should no have to ask but I gess that even God has set rules for himself in promisess and fofilment of priofficy. The idea is that we have free will and he wants to ask and not tell us to be with him in spirit and in mannor. Our actions not telling us yes or no but how we feal about those actins threw God tells us these things. Concince and temptaition those little caton figures angel and demon with that tridant ( not the chewing gum brand) and tail. Oh how I have survived. One day out of my life the start of second grade a new school and a new life I wish that there where more interesting things to take apart than a phone with an already broken circut bord smashed by a bou in my class if not for the surcut bord I probubly would have figured out how to putt it back together. How I wondered every day when I would get to take somthing apart and putt it back together, but everthing was altready taken apart and I neaded a more than a philups haid screwdriver to fix that phone what I neaded was somthing I had no ideah existed littlelone the fact that I was way to youn to even use a sodering iorn. The teachers still thaught that I was still to young to hold a pair of sisors even though I started using them in preschool. It is a wonder I survived. One day out of my life I am exited I get to learn how to use chopstickes in class wile eating popcorn we where not aloud to use our fingers. We where at the end of our china unit coloring the great wall with lopsided bricks that where supost to be a little lopsided. I was exalent at using the two sticks to pick up the popcorn the only problem was that I was holding them wrong but at least i did not nead a rubberband atached to the se sticklike utencels. Using my middle finger as a fulcrum and my pionter and ring to manipulate the top stick even until I saw the diagram and did so the proper way. How did I survive? One day out of my life it is nearing first comumyon this is my fist time tasting the wine so that Iwont makew a face if I did not like the way it tates. I thaught that it tasted horible even though I took a small sip as instructed. I did not make a face. How did I survive? Oneday out of my life it is first comunyon I take both the host and the wine this time I like it so much I take a big gulp and make a face. When my mother asked me why I took such a big gulp I told my mother that the whine “ tates better with Jesus in it.” my mother laphed so quietly only her ears and a few others herd her. I wonder how we survived. One day of my life I am now about 9 or 10 years old Great grandma took me fishing and taught me how to imbroider that night i could not sleap for some reason or another so I got out the cloth that I was working on and started stichin gI was so quiet that I thaught that I would sutly not wake her than again the light in the livingroom of her apartment could have given me away. She found me awake and unable to sleap soundly I was not homsich and usualy did not complain but the couch was a tad to cushey so I slept on the floor instad she thaught that I was crazy for sleaping on the floor instad of on the couch. It is a wonder that I survived. One summer out of my life I felt human I can not remember what summer this was but I taught my sister how to swim she wanted to jump into the pool and each time that se jumped I would take just a single step back evedently she lernd to jump quite far also because when she went to her first formal swimming lesson she kept taking off the floaty until she threw it so that the instructher could no longer reach it than when it was her turn to jum into the water she abot flatenes the instructer ling sory short she skiped a few levils. I wonder how the poor swim instructor is doing. It is a wonder that he survived my syster. One day of my life I rode my first rolercoster I was so exited that I could barly wate in line when we finaly got to the front of the lighn the rolercoster took us up and down I could barily understand why all the other peaple on bord where screaming eve mu unkle. When the ride was over I aslked him so tentitivly why where the other peaple skreaming? Than he told me “Because they where having fun” I still had no ideah

Hi friends, I'm not a frequent reddit user, so apologies if anything below was formatted/phrased/etc incorrectly!
tl;dr - Consistent printing misalignment across multiple firmware updates has me wondering if it's time for a new printer, or if there's some esoteric setting or troubleshooting I need to do to get my hardware to cooperate. I am looking for recommendations on a new printer, but am also open to troubleshooting tips for my current printer.
Details: My current home printer is an Epson WF-2830. One of the most common things I need it for is to print price tags for my small business. My current efforts for this involve those pre-perforated tag sheets that you're meant to print on and then tear the tags out of. This is what my current printer is doing when I try to print on these pre-perforated sheets:
The alignment gets worse from top to bottom
This is the left hand column of the last sheet I tried to print. I did have the sheet oriented properly in the printer.
The alignment in the upper left-hand corner is already off, but would be usable. The alignment gets worse from this corner outward.
And this (above) is the full sheet, with the alignment just degrading tag by tag and row by row. Below here is what it should look like:
Behold, my layout
I am using templates provided by the tag manufacturer, OnlineLabels(dot)com, and doing my formatting in Adobe Illustrator. My background is in graphic design, so I know my way around Illustrator pretty well; the alignment is properly formatted within the software (see above).
Printing from Illustrator vs. exporting to .pdf or other file doesn't appear to have any effect on print alignment. I did this successfully on a former printer, which was a Laser Jet M234dwe. Kinda wishing now I'd kept that printer >_>
I am not currently looking at any specific printer models. There are so many options and I don't have much recourse if a new printer still doesn't do what I need it to, so I wanted to seek advice from people who know more about this than I do. So hi : ) I plan to retain my current Epson, so I don't even care if the new printer is multifunction (ie scanning and whatnot) as long as it will allow me to print my hanging tags for work.

Minimum Requirements

• Budget: My husband all but came out and said this could be a birthday present, so nothing crazy expensive, but also not "need to go garage sale trawling to be as inexpensive as possible"
• Country: USA
• Color or black and white: B&W is fine, my tags are all monochrome
• Laser or ink printer: No preference
• New or used: No preference
• Multi-function: No preference
• Duplex Printing: No preference
• Home or business: Home
• Printing content: Graphics that need to be appropriately aligned either for pre-perforated tag sheets, or cutting on a Cricut later
• Printing frequency: As needed
• Pages per minute: No preference
• Page size: 8 1/2" x 11"
• Device printing from: Laptop
• Connection type: Wifi

The Laser Jet M234dwe had enabled me to just print my graphics on cardstock and then cut out my tags myself using my Cricut machine, the alignment was so good. I'm not sure if this is super relevant to the current situation, I just miss that reliability and am currently very frustrated that I can't just do that right now ;_;
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! I look forward to any input y'all can afford : )

I have a best friend of almost 20 years who didn’t wish me happy birthday today. I am trying not to take it personally because she also has a four month old and probably a million things on her mind.
l tell myself that I shouldn’t care but deep down I know I do. I feel stupid about it. I’ve been feeling anxious about how our relationship is changing with her having a baby and maybe this just confirms it in my mind. I know rationally I should be understanding and I’m being selfish, but there’s this part of me that feels really sad and hurt likely bc of my own abandonment issues. Her birthday was a month ago and I made sure to text her first thing when I got up and I bought her a gift certificate to a really nice spa she loves. Anyways not sure what I’m looking for here just needed to vent.

Hi, I’m a 15F, and I’m turning 16 during the summer. My dad is part of a “religious practice" in which we do not celebrate pagan holidays like Christmas,Halloween,Easter,New Years, birthdays, and more. When I was younger, we used to celebrate, but we stopped when i was around the age of 9–11. I never had a big problem with it until, like, a year ago. When I was 13, I was jealous of my long distance family members and friends for celebrating fun holidays while i did nothing. Recently, most of my friends turned 16 and had parties. The best sweet 16 I’ve seen was an ex-friend of mine had. She had a massive venue with a beautiful pink dress and crown. Her family and friends were there to support her. She was gifted a car and received so much money. I was extremely proud of her, but I couldn’t help but feel abiT of resentment. I only had the chance to experience the moment on camera because I’m not allowed to go to birthday parties. My second friend had a dinner party with friends and received expensive and thoughtful gifts, but I wasn’t able to go. Now a third friend had a sweet 16, but I wasn’t invited because I’m not close to her, which is understandable. Everyone had pictures and videos of her walking down the venue in a long gown. She looked like Disney Princess Tiana; she was so pretty, and her girlfriend was slow dancing with her. It was so cute, but once again, I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I asked my dad if I could do one, because I remember him saying a long time ago that I would be able to celebrate my 16th birthday. He obviously didn’t remember and said there was no point in throwing a birthday party because in his own words “what’s so important about turning 16 and not 17, 18, 19, and 20?”. He also said it’s disrespectful to God because I’m supposed to celebrate God alone. I don’t believe in God, but he doesn’t know that. I asked instead of throwing a big party if I could just have a birthday dinner with family and look pretty. He didn’t answer my question, but I could sense he’s not so on with it. I don’t believe I’m being unreasonable with my wishes; I’m aware we don’t have much money and a birthday dinner will work fine. My father isn’t a bad person; he’s just gotten really religious over the years. He's gotten less strict recently, but I still don’t want to miss out on my teen years. My birthday is coming up in a month, and I just want a day to celebrate me and my accomplishments in life.

So I have been dating this guy since December of 2023 he’s 27 I’m 24 but anyways his birthday was back in March and for his birthday I gave him $150 he recently just joined the military so I wasn’t able to do much for him besides send him money because he was in boot camp at the time. My birthday was on the 17th and he couldn’t wish me a happy birthday because he only gets his phone on Sundays. Today is Sunday and he texted me but didn’t mention my birthday or give me anything he’s just carrying on a normal conversation to me as if it doesn’t matter and before you guys ask yes we both agreed that we are exclusively dating we’ve made that clear to each other!!! I am hurt by this I haven’t said anything to him and idk what to do it definitely rubbed me the wrong way… what would you guys do in this situation??

I lost my mum to cancer 13, almost 14 years ago now. It hasn’t gotten any easier since. I miss her so much but I hardly remember her. I lost her when I was 10, I’m 24 now and it still hasn’t really gotten any easier. It makes me so sad when I see girls with their mums, why can’t that be me! I wish it was me. She was my best friend, I wish she could’ve lived forever. Cancer is so evil. How they haven’t found a cure for it yet I don’t know. I just want to do all of the girly things that come with having a mum, getting our nails done together, gossiping, having sleepovers together, just doing everything a mother and daughter would be doing. I’m so sad I will never get to experience this. Does anyone else who’s lost their mother feel this way? It would be nice to know I’m not alone. There’s a massive hole in my chest that never seems to go away. And I don’t think it ever will. I miss her so much.

3rd and hopefully last update here.
I decided that I am not visiting. My husband dropped off a care package that I made for her a few days ago, and I texted her some well wishes. That’s literally all I can muster. Since then (yesterday, my bday) my mom, who I haven’t spoken to in months and ideally would be NC with, texted me from my grandmas phone because apparently my grandma was unable to text, and from her own phone, that 1- my uncle needed to know if the care package was from me (my name and husband and child’s names are on it.. it was obvious, so I don’t know why this was a question and why it had to be asked through my mom), and 2- (multiple times over the last 2 days) that I need to visit my grandma because the doctors said it’s ‘so important’ and ‘part of her therapy’. Me, specifically. Who my grandma has ignored for the past 6 months aside from accidentally texting me gossip about me. My mom also sent me flowers for my birthday and I sent her a picture to thank her and she got upset because they weren’t what she ordered. Which is somewhat irrelevant but it just makes me realize how literally no interaction can be positive with her.
My grandma is miraculously able to text today, and texted me that she misses my son and some other stuff but nothing about the basket or wanting me to visit. She’s being discharged in a few days. I cannot bring my son with me to the rehab center bc of the visiting policy. I do not want to use the 2 hours in the evening that my husband is home to bring everyone to visit a person who has dragged my whole family through the mud for decades.
At this point I’m considering just blocking my mom and anyone who continues to pressure me to visit. This situation has gotten completely out of control, I have no idea why I’m now the center of their drama. There’s nothing I can tell them about why I’m not visiting that they’ll accept, and I’m sure even if I visit daily it won’t be enough, so I’m wondering if I should say something before I block them.

A little back story before I begin the talking about the actual issue. I was 6 years old when I was fostered by this current family (not adopting - this means councils can intervene a bit more) there is my foster dad, mum and sister and then there's my real brother and I. We all had our issues when my brother and I were growing up. I am 17 now, and have since grown out of the stupid things that we used to do.
I had an ok childhood and I didn't see much of my sister. She only participated with my life and started wanting to make memories with me once I hit puberty. When I started my periods, the foster parents made it a big deal to start me on the pill as soon as they could. I had no issues with my periods - except holidays. But they didn't want me making an issue of going on holiday with them. So they lied to the nurse and got me on the pill., even getting me on evening primrose and starflower oil, claiming I had behavioral issues - bear in mind I was 13 when this was all happening and I wanted to have my say. And my way of getting my revenge was to deprive them of having the ability to do girly things with the second daughter who they'd never really treated as a daughter. I began to hate being a girl and hated being called a woman. So I started covering up and not allowing them to buy me stuff that might show me off or indicate that I'm a girl (I even wear jumpers in the summer).
My sister got me these books for my birthday or Christmas because they helped her through growing up into the woman she is now, and wanted me to understand what was going on with my body. I knew what was going on with my body, I just didn't care - so I started mistreating it. It got so bad that my brother actually thought I was a boy. And I told her I had no need for the books because I didn't want to know and I wouldn't be the sister she wanted me to be.
I know this sounded vain - but I genuinely thought this way and hated life itself and wouldn't talk about any of it. Not to anyone.
Onto the main story. My sister is 23 with Fragile X, and I am 17 in June. My foster sister (FS) came to college with me - I signed up before she did - I was brought round to having the idea of having her at college with me, though being pessimistic about it at first. I asked her not to tell anyone that I was a foster child because here people believe that all foster children are pure evil and should be kept away from. But on the very first day, we weren't sat there 10 minutes and she goes "yeah, she's my foster sister. My parents fostered her when she was very young" I was upset because she broke the promise she'd made me. But I ignored it because I told that it wasn't malicious and I was over reacting.
In December last year, she struck again. I had told my friends to tell me if they had an issue with me. This was because I had to deal with a psycho ex bf that almost had his way. My friends told my sister first, made them panic and told them to report me because I've done it before which is a lie, 4 weeks I had to endure of silence, insults in front of me and behind me, and door slamming. Worst of all, she told everyone, leaving no one out. So it wasnt just her and they're still being horrible and snubby towards me today. But I've grown to not care. They want to live in a world centered around her lies, then that's their own pain when they find out.

How do i deal with my Severe alienated 12 years old Daughter?
I miss her but i feels better if she does not contact me, she does contact me by telegram only if she needs some money to buy some app store things, or Cash, or gifts.
She refuses to answer me any Question and She dont want to communicate about anything else then her Presents and wishes.
She is since about 5 Month only writing me. (no calls) how she hates me, that i would be the worst dad ever, i would be a son of a b…, how her stepfather is better and buys her all etc etc. its realy insane. its like her mum would write me,so strange and weired.
Today she wrote me after 10 days not replying just to call me a lier, the things she calls me a lier for is pure projection. She is acting exactly like her narcissistic mother.
me putting up boundries is imidiatly causing fights and she blocks me again.
I cant see her anymore and there is nothing i can do to change that, i have sole-custody. i fighted for years to protect her since 2017.
What should i do?

hi, i am 42 and i feel all i have in my life is my job and my parents of whom i live with.
i have no children or family or my own, and this failing has been eating away at me. tried to do something about it but nothing availed (career? string of dead end jobs. women? never reply or can ever get close to on a personal level). after my grandmum died a few weeks ago i really do begin to feel the clock ticking and this anxiety and worry, i dont know if thats a midlife crisis.
all i know, this is not just an episode of being 'down in the dumps'. its been something i feel its been growing inside me for years - not in my head, but feeling it from my gut. i'm starting to feel it interrupting my job. my get up and go has got up has gone. i just dont feel like working even though the rational part of me forces myself to just do it. i dont know if i have depression but lately i am in this state where i just dont feel like doing anything and i am just unhappy.
i used to be a gamer in my 30s as a hobby, but i havent even touched my ps5 for over 6 months. i've sold all my games. i just lost the will to play.
i have been seeing a counsellor for 11 years in trying to 'get help' (as everyone keeps saying) but i feel its done hardly anything for me. she has aspired me to do travelling to get out my comfort zone and meet people, which i have done. but thats it. even travelling is becoming meaningless now because i am constantly in this state of preoccupation. i know after a big holiday i'll never see those people again even if they add me on facebook or not (and when they don't, it hurts).
people say talk to friends and family. i have no real friends. never have. when i was a little boy in school, i was bullied. in secondary school i got focused on my studies thinking that eventually, a degree would unlock a life of fabulous riches. but i eventually learned the hard way with years of unemployment that it wasnt, back then. i tried reaching out to people, online via a facebook group, but it descended to insults and hurtful remarks that left me banned and made me punched the wall. my family doesnt know about my feelings, becaise from what i have seen, mental health is seen as taboo. they'll just admonish me, shout me down, tell me to get a grip. i cant really talk to them because they're going to deny theres a problem. and i dont want to break their hearts, especially my parents. i rather soak the pain than bring them in it. i love them too much to see them feel hurt for me.
social groups - when going out, if its not work or a family function, i largely have social anxiety. i so badly want to meet women and get a girlfriend, who hopefully becomes my wife and eventual mother to my kids and form my new family, but i just seem incapable of it. i just cant get close to a woman at that personal and intimate level. if i try, it results in failure and embarassment. at the rare times i did try, it just doesnt come out right. i once went to salsa dancing class in a big city nearby, trying to talk to women, but the anxiety was so overwhelming, i couldnt breathe, and thought i was going to have a heart attack, i had to get out of there. i never been back since. i dont even go to pubs. i think about women more and more - even women i wasnt attracted to at first, drives me crazy now. i remember when leaving a job to move to another, a lady colleague i worked alot with hugged me, and it felt unlike anything i felt before. it was amazing. the softness, the warmth, the care...its as if i was missing that my whole life. i was close to crying. i want to experience true closeness, and intimacy.
thats not to say i'm a virgin. i lost my virginity at 30 to an escort; that was a unsatisfying experience as even then i had anxiety and couldnt perform properly - i did it because i didnt wanted to be the '30 year old virgin'. i just cant seem to get close with women. i tend to obsess about them. my instagram feed is full of attractive women. seeing beautiful ones on tv, even if its just the weather girl or news reader, it drives me nuts. in my job, i work with journalists, and theres many women there. i can talk to them confidently and easily, IF ITS ABOUT WORK. the instances i tried to talk about life in trying to get to know them and get close to them, the barrier goes up. i can tell because they wont add me on fb or whatever. i just cant seem to hack it with women. no woman = no wife = no mother to my children = no family of my own = no legacy.
i appreciate some might say not having family should not mean one is a failure. however, as much as i tried to ignore it, i come from a culture whereby family trumps everything else - money, career, hobbies, everything. i been ignoring it for years. trying to chase a career, which ended up as a string of dead end temporary jobs. losing 15 years of my life to this, living from temp job to temp job, and going to over 200 job interviews in getting secure employment, enduring hundreds of devastating rejections. but, years later, i now have at least job security, which is most important, but am beginning to feel the limit of my pay. trying to chase a career, spending nights throughout the 2010s playing video games and enjoying my gaming career in that, playing adventure games...but now i have reached a point where i've 'run out' of games to play and nothing (except maybe gta6) will interest me in picking up a controller again. i've grown out of it, it seems. i even been travelling more too - i travel far, and so big holidays. from usa, to africa, to europe, to india, and soon to be going to australia... doing all sorts of holidays from cruises, ranch holidays, safari, hiking, group road trips, wildlife conservation volunteering, sailing the mediterrarian - grand, amazing experiences that does suspend my worries... but in the end, i keep coming back to them, this feeling of emptiness.
my big fear is seeing my parents get older and dying from a broken heart caused by me. my dad worked in construction but is retired and now freelances, and he tends to hurt himself in accidents as he gets clumsy. my mother works in a school. i have always lived with my family except during the years i was at university. i feel my mum and dad are my 'best friends' - sad as it sounds -and the thought of them both going to die somepoint in the future, fills me with dread. because i feel i have failed them, in not continuing the family line. failing to secure a legacy for us. to keep us all going, surviving through the next generation. when i think about it deeply, our bloodline has been passed down for thousands of years, surviving through all sorts such as wars, plagues, and revolutions. i feel compelled to continue it, as if its a duty, and i dont want my parents to die with their last thoughts being disappointment. i can see it in my dads eyes already, the sadness. he wants to play with his grandchildren, but he has none, and all his friends shows off their grandkids. similarly with me, i see people i went to school with, and ex-colleagues i used to work with...they all have kids and a house of their own and a car. i have none of that. i stand NO chance buying a house of my own as i simply can't afford it, and renting will be throwing my money away living on other peoples crap. i said to my parents i want to inherit this home when they go, because my memories are here. my history. our family memories. my happy childhood memories, growing up, the birthdays, playing with my brother, my parents, the fun times growing up, coming back from school, doing homework, watching football together on the TV in the 90s, our first pc, all of it. all of these amazing experiences back then, i love to go through again, but this time with my own kids, seeing them grow up, playing with toys, drawing, having a first pet, etc...to navigate life with them as a father, and teaching them what i believe is required to be a good person.
before you say it, i'm not just doing it for my parents. i want a family for myself. i feel if i failed to have children, failed to find someone who loves me, failed to have any friends, failed to have had any influence or imprint on the world nomatter how small - i actually feel i'm not part of this world. to quote ellie from the last of us, my life would not have 'fkn mattered'. its as if i am a 'watcher', if that makes sense, not part of the fabric of this world and civilisation. watching it all from a window. that'll lead me to questions like why i am i here, leading to a probable, and painful, full-on existential crisis. when its my parents' time, when they grow old and die, and if i'm left all alone, i dont think i'd want to live anymore. i'm praying to find something. of course, i know i have to DO something, but my mind draws a blank. i cant ignore what my body is telling me anymore. but then, i step outside the house, and i dont know what to do, socially. when i approach someone, i get anxiety attacks. in my town, people are aggressive - its also possible if i approach a woman here i might end up getting assaulted, shouted at or shamed. sometimes theres no place to really go as i live in a small town. and as you get older, its harder to make friends, as people already have their established circles. i even remember my ex-manager talking to colleagues about this when we had a drink once and she asked 'how do you meet people' even though shes in her 50s and has established family and friends - indeed. how, for those who do not.
for coping, some people elsewhere suggested exercising. this is something i tend to do, but perhaps not enough of. i like to go on walks. theres a public park where i go and feed the ducks. seeing animals makes me happy. when the baby ducks swim to me wanting the kibble food it makes me feel wanted. i love animals. from dogs, cats and ducks - to even wild animals like the tigers i saw in india. i also did some hiking holidays, including going through some american national parks like yosemite, where i saw a family of bears at a distance. travelling is something i like to do too - in fact, i have more 'big' holidays coming up in usa again (alaska this summer), then australia, europe (croatia), the canadian rockies and maybe south america. i do these trips to get that out-of-body, 'blown away' feeling, of being thrilled, alive, and enjoying and experiencing life. it does help. but travelling is expensive. i'm not made of money.
all i want, is my own family..

I wanted to post an update in this sub since I had posted here for support a few times.
My dad lost his battle two weeks ago today on May 5th.
He was diagnosed 3 years ago. Underwent 2 resections, one just after diagnosis and one in March of 2023.
It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone.
I got married in September of last year, and he was still able to walk me down the aisle. By the end of October he was no communicative. In November he was completely bed ridden.
My mother elected to put him on a feeding tube in November at the suggestion of his doctors. They suggested it would be a temporary way to give him some energy to see if swelling was what was causing him to not be able to talk / move.
He ended up staying on the feeding tube until she elected to remove it 3 weeks ago. It took a little over a week for him to pass once the feeding tube was removed and he moved to hospice. Feeding tube was removed Thursday night, and he passed away on Sunday a week later.
It’s incredibly difficult. I was 8 months pregnant when he passed. I wasn’t able to travel for the funeral due to the high risk nature of my pregnancy. Doctor strongly advised against making the 8 hour drive. I ended up being induced the day after his funeral. Every now and then when I look at my baby I can’t help but cry over the grandfather she’ll never meet. I can’t help but wonder what he would say about her.
Even though he hasn’t been able to communicate since November, his passing has left an unfathomable sense of loss. I am glad he is no longer suffering. But I miss him very much. Tomorrow would be his 56th birthday.
To all of you still fighting, I wish you all the best. This disease is terrible. If I had any advice on how to comfort loved ones I might suggest writing a letter / doing a video to speak with them before it’s too late. My dad’s lack of communication honestly came out of nowhere. It could offer some source of comfort for loved ones. To all caregivers my thoughts are with you. I can’t imagine a more terrible disease.

It was two days before my birthday in July 2011 and I was traveling for work. I was thinking to myself that if the person I was dating wasn't meant for me, then allow me to meet the one intended for me. Nearly an hour later, it happened. I had a sudden urge/pull to stop at a gas station on my way back to my hometown and immediately after I put my vehicle in park, I felt a surge of energy. Instinctively I knew, I was close to my my DM. I, DF, proceeded to get out of the vehicle I was driving and looked to my left-lo and behold there he was. He was trying to act inconspicuous and everything but I could see that we were both glancing at each other. I think we both felt the recognition of each other, however it rocked me to my core and I was rendered speechless truthfully, so I proceeded to walk into the gas station. I could feel his eyes watching me as I did, too. My life went into a bipolarcoaster spiral after that and it was a heck of a ride until 2018. Ever since the storm has calmed, every time I see a photo of him I feel the fires of complete unconditional love and its honestly sort of scary because I have not felt so strongly about a person like this aside from my children. It was torturous at first and it is still painful when I don't see him or hear his voice, however I know that this isn't just wishful thinking, it's very real. And I am absolutely head over heels. If not in this life, maybe the next I guess. ♥️

We're both close friends in college together. I'm not toooo worried about the future, because he's moving away for law school next year. I think it'll naturally go away with distance.
However, in the meantime, him and I and another one of our friends are going on a trip to Europe for three weeks this summer.
This crush is TOTALLY unrequited. Any normal person would've moved on by now. The thing is, I have OCD, and I've definitely gotten hooked on this as an obsession. I'm in therapy twice a week and talking to my therapist about it, but I'm still concerned and could use advice.
I'm just worried it'll interfere with the Europe trip, especially as we'll be drinking. Logically, I KNOW nothing will happen. I know that. But I'm worried part of myself is going to be hoping something happens between us on the trip, and I'm going to mess up the trip for myself or them with my unrequited love antics. (Nothing that horrible, but we went on a previous trip together and I ended up spending a night pouting by myself because he wasn't paying enough attention to me 🙄 embarrassing, I know...)
Also, I've already bought the plane tickets, so there's no going back. And I can't just tell him and get a clear rejection, because my therapist said I need to learn to move on while dealing with that uncertainty, rather than needing the clarity. It's clear he doesn't feel the same way about me, so I just need to give up hope.
I'll definitely talk to my therapist more about how to handle the rejection of "getting less attention/being less of a priority than I want" more maturely. I know it's immature and I want to fix it!
I've tried moving on by dating other guys. I'm on all the dating apps and have been actively trying to meet up with people. I've been flirting with other acquantainces. I'm trying to spend more time with other people and de-prioritize him. It just hasn't been working.
Last night we were at our friend's birthday party and I had two other people to flirt with there, and I tried to flirt with them, but the whole time I was just thinking about him and wishing he was paying attention to me and,,, yeah, being obsessed. It's bad.
Any advice from other women who have been there? I tend to get "hooked"/obsessed and have a really hard time letting go. In the past only distance has helped and I don't really see that being feasible with Europe upcoming.

So, I (21F) have been dating my boyfriend (25M) for almost a year and a half now and have recently gone long(mid?) distance. We used to have a bit of a short distance, about a half an hour drive away from each other, and we would see each other mostly once a week. Sometimes we would see each other twice a week, but due to his work we'd mostly only spend time on the weekend with him staying 2 or 3 nights at mine.
I started having struggles with my living situation as my roommate had become a nightmare and the flat I was living at was turning incredibly uncomfortable and I just couldn't take living there anymore. My boyfriend and I ended up deciding it would be the best idea for me to move out and live with my parents as finding a new flat for myself wasn't that great of an option as I don't have too much money, and moving back in with my parents would help me save up money to move out again. Before you ask, I can't move in with my boyfriend yet, as he still lives with his mum because he's trying to save up as much money as possible and will move out when his apprenticeship finishes in 2026.
I ended up going through with the plans and have completely moved out and am now living with my parents, which is where my struggle is. My parents live a 5 hour drive away from my boyfriend. I know that may not seem like much to some of you, but it's a lot to me. I suffer with BPD and have never done a distance longer than a 40 minute drive before, and its kind of weighing on me that we're going from seeing each other once or twice a week to only seeing each other twice a month. Again, I know some of you would probably wish you only had that much of a distance, but to me it feels like an entirely new thing.
So, I guess I'm just wondering, how do you guys cope in long distance? What is some advice you can give me? I've kind of just been trying to tell myself that it's only for 3 months, and 3 months is nothing compared to us wanting to spend the rest of our lives together (hopefully). We've also gone 2 weeks apart a few times now, so I'm trying to tell myself that 2 weeks between each visit isn't that bad, but god its such a big change for me. Physical touch is one of my main love languages so it's difficult. We are planning to video call every 2 or 3 nights thought to make things a little bit easier. I love this man with everything in me so I do know it'll be worth it in the end.
I do ask in advanced that people please be nice, I know it may not seem like much of a distance, but everyone deals with things differently, and this is a lot for me. Thank you to anyone who takes their time to read this. Any advice is appreciated
TLDR: My boyfriend and i have been together for a year and 5 months and have recently gone from seeing each other once or twice a week to twice a month due to me moving back in with my parents, who live a 5 hour drive away, for 3 months to save money. I know it may be more of a mid distance thing and seem like not that big of a deal to some, but it's very new to me and I was just wondering what are some ways I can cope?

Salam peeps, I just wanted to share beliefs / rules i follow as a sufi muslim. Please note that these are just the blueprint that my leadeshaykh (a very popular and well-qualified one) has provided us. We do not agree with what the salafis/wahhabis/najdis believe, but we also don't completely disregard islamic teachings and values in order to be progressive. I believe this set or rules is ideal for the Islam that was completed 14 centuries ago, before all the najdi fitnah took place and is firm enough to withstand western fitnahs. Here are 10 of them:

1. Music is permissible, as long as it contains no haram stuff (swearing, sex, drugs ect.)
   
2. Celebrating Mawlid / birthdays is permissible, as long as no harami activities (obvious, ill-intentioned free mixing, intimate sessions ect.)
   
3. Any form of doubt towards Allah / the Quran or the prophet / hadiths (the sahih atleast) is haram, or even worse kufr. It shows that one lacks fundamental Islamic values and beliefs, and in worst case is completely out of the religion.
   
4. Male - female friendship is discouraged. The risk of being exposed to haram stuff is there. Better safe than sorry. (although for academic purposes / school / work / job it is okay, but just to that extent)
   
5. Asking for Allahs help through the Prophet (pbuh) and other deviants is permissible (for example "Ya nabi, ya Ali, ya ghous al azam" ect.), aka. waseela
   
6. Not every religious invention is "bad" bid'ah, there are also "good" bid'ahs.
   
7. Most musical instruments are not haram, especially the flute,as it is used by sufis to channel the cries of the soul.
   
8. Hijab is strongly encouraged, as it is a requirement from Allah in the Quran and also has a lot of other benefits. Hijab does not reduce beauty. It is a sign of faith and obedience to the creator.
   
9. We respect Abu Bakr, Umar Farooq, Usman,Ali and the sahabas. Talking ill about any of them is strongly discouraged.
   
10. Public display of gay/same sex affection (or any, in that case) is discouraged. If you are married, keep the acts of affection inside your homes. If you are gay, have patience and don't act on your wishes/nafs. Indeed the rewards in the hereafter will be massive.
    

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

Hi all, looking for some tactful guidance for what feels like a fairly unique situation (though there are plenty of similar posts on the sub). My apologies for the novel.
Two years ago we met a couple at another wedding who lives in our same town and the guy is in the same industry and knows a number of the same people I do. We both work in external facing roles that are very relationship driven. At the time, I was going through a traumatic job loss and have since more than landed on my feet.
We hit it off with said couple. We went out to dinner back home once and had a blast. There were lots of promises made on both ends about spending a lot of time together moving forward. The guy was somewhat helpful in helping me navigate my job loss.
Both we and this couple are very social people that host a number of events at home and elsewhere.
Since this dinner, we have attended 2 charity events partially arranged by the couple (and made appropriate contributions) and have invited them to many social events at our home. They attended a handful. They invited us at the last minute to one event at their home but otherwise haven't invited us to anything else they host at their home or elsewhere.
We also invited them to our engagement dinneparty last summer which they attended. At this party, the guy told me we would be receiving our invitation to their destination wedding soon. We never received an invitation.
We decided despite this, we would invite them to our wedding and in doing so hopefully illustrate the level of inclusiveness we hoped to receive from them moving forward. We messaged them and said we hope we will be spending more time together this year. They told us they were excited to attend our destination wedding and agreed that they want to spend more time together.
My fiance has reached out to the girl to spend 1 on 1 time together numerous times. They met up one time and it sounded like it was pulling teeth to keep the conversation going. The girl is very quiet while the guy is very extroverted in general so I'm not sure there's much to read into that.
They did then invite us to see a concert together and grab drinks before hand. While grabbing drinks, 2 of their friends showed up who were clearly invited by the couple. While those people were plenty fun, we were a bit mifffed as we thought the purpose of this was to spend quality time together.
Most recently, we invited them to my fiance's birthday party and they did not respond. We wished the guy a happy birthday (his bday falls near my fiances) and received only a "thanks!" back. We then saw that they hosted a sizeable (20~ person) birthday party for the guy which we were not invited to.
While they RSVPd yes to our Save the Date, their physical invitation has probably only just arrived. They have not yet provided the hotel we are hosting the wedding at with their credit card information.
My fiance and I are now both fed up at what we feel is a one sided relationship in which they only engage in if they are getting some unique value or uniquely fun experience out of, with seemingly no desire to reciprocate in kind. The industry the guy and I are in is full of people who are very transactional in their professional and personal relationships (an industry similar to sales).
We are paying for a large chunk of our wedding and are adhering to a strict (though generous, we feel) budget. We are targeting a cost of ~$1,000 per guest and are up against that wall to do what we want to do within this budget. The wedding is in Europe and requires a significant financial and time sacrifice from our guests to attend. The $2,000 that would be "freed" up if they do not attend our wedding would allow for either a better guest experience for everyone else or might allow for someone who is on the fence to come to our wedding (we have a few "maybes" hanging out there still).
Do we:
A) Let it ride and if they do actually come to the wedding let it serve as a lesson to ourselves to be more careful about transactional or one sided "friendships" moving forward. As noted, the guy is extroverted and very fun so they would be a "value add" to a degree.
B) Send them a message explaining why we feel this has been a 1 sided relationship and ask if they still are planning to come to our wedding and actually do want a true friendship moving forward.
or
C) Send them a message explaining why we feel the way that we do and that given our budget constraints we would prefer to only include individuals who have the time or space (or desire) to engage in truly mutual friendships?
I do run some personal risk in B and C that the guy could do some harm to my reputation as he knows a number of the painful details that led to my traumatic job loss and we "swim in the same circles" to a degree. While I feel I have re-established myself, I still do not feel "safe".
Thank you in advance for any thoughts or guidance!
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Thanks for the messages. I see them. I think some are from you. I'm hurting. I want us to decide. Are we in this together? Or are we apart?
If we're in, I need you IRL. If you aren't ready it's ok, but tell me your needs and expectations IRL.
If you aren't in that's fine too. Just tell me, or I'll take the continued silence as an answer. But I'm putting a stop to the limbo. Hopefully, this results in a positive outcome for us both. If not, that's OK too.
I'll still wish you a happy birthday in any case. The date is etched in my mind. I'm going through things right now, so it's important to know who's with me. It's ok if you don't have the ability, capacity or inclination to. I'll find my space. I'm good at that. Just thought you wanted to be with me.
I would say take time....but I'm tired of waiting. You don't have to respond here. Respond to me IRL.
Xoxo

Hi ladies. I’m feeling conflicted and some advice would be helpful.
I’m 10 weeks pregnant with my second baby and there is one particular friend I haven’t told yet, well actually them and my sister. The last time I was pregnant I was bombarded with my sisters crappy relationship with her boyfriend and then during the 2nd half of my pregnancy I was bombarded with both my friend and my sisters crappy relationship. This lasted well into my postpartum period when I was struggling with raising a baby with no family support while I also battled PPD.
My friend and my sister are still will these men and their relationships still suck so nothing has really changed. Now I’m pregnant but I’m extremely anxious to say anything to them given my past experience. I’ve told my family, husbands family and my other friends but I feel no desire to inform my friend and sister. I’m afraid things will still be the same since they’re still miserable in their respective relationships. I’ve put some distance between myself and them by reducing contact and taking a step back for my own mental health. I don’t feel like I can communicate my feelings with them because it always slaps me in the face and they make it about their feelings instead of trying to see where I’m coming from and letting me have a moment. This friend of mine calls herself my kids aunt but has never even wished him on his birthday or acknowledged the day, neither has my sister. There’s just no effort so I stopped expecting anything. My kid has other aunts and uncles who love the crap out of him so I focus on the people who actually show up for him. I used to be very close to my friend but that has changed since they met their current partner. The relationship just isn’t the same anymore and I’ve been trying to stay at a distance so I don’t get traumatized again.
Am I being unreasonable? I know I’m flooded with pregnancy hormones so I’m trying to figure out if my reasons are justified. I feel almost overprotective of my mental health this time around since I had such a hard time during my first pregnancy so I’m feeling extra selective regarding the people I allow in my life this time around.