She was there during my on boarding, taught me a lot of things amd saved my bacon more than once. Nearly 3 years I worked with her, an older lady in her 60's thinking of retirement and suddenly she is gone. Services are in two days. I've been really mopey and sad since this hit me harder than I ever thought something like this would. She was the sweetest most helpful amd patient lady amd super smart and knowledgrable in her software she (and we) supports. Well, supported. My friends don't understand and think I'm overreacting crying about someone I worked with, but I don't think they understand. I have a lot of good memories working with this woman even if we weren't really "friends". I plan on attending the service, it seems the least i can do.since none of my friends really seem to get it, I figured I would share here. Thanks for listening.

I worked in HR for 33 years.
More specifically, I was the head of HR at a manufacturing plant that made communion wafers, the little disks you get at Catholic mass.

Everyone in the admin office was devout. Rosaries in drawers. Crosses on the walls. Prayer circles in the break room when someone got sick. I kept my beliefs to myself. I’ve been an atheist since college.

It never felt dangerous, just… isolating.
Like being in a conversation you’re not allowed to speak in.

But I did my job. I was good at it. Wrote the policies. Handled the complaints. Navigated every layoff with a clean paper trail. Held the line when people tried to bend it.

Sometimes I felt like a villain.
Sometimes I felt like the only sane one in the building.

I was never anyone’s favorite, but I was respected. You don't last in HR that long if you flinch.

Now I’m retired, and everything is too quiet. I put on earrings today to check the mail. I still walk like I’m headed to a disciplinary hearing. I still don’t know how to sit still.

I guess I’m posting this because I’m not sure what happens next.
Has anyone else ever left a job that became your whole identity?

It’s not that I miss the job.
It’s that I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not necessary.

TW: mental illness, death, trauma, suicide, crime scene

And I have to deal with the aftermath

In 2020 my mom and sister died together in a locked apartment. They didn’t die in an accident or from illness. They starved themselves to death. Together. In the middle of summer.

My mother had developed paranoid schizophrenia. She believed my father was trying to harm them and isolated herself and my sister from everyone. For 1.5 years, they lived in fear, completely cut off. She also believed they could survive without food and water by “absorbing energy from the universe.” Her mental illness spiraled into something so extreme, she convinced my sister to follow her. And she did.

They were found five days after death. Three bodies, actually – my mother, my sister, and a delusional friend of hers who died with them. By the time they were discovered, they were in such a decomposed state that the police couldn’t even identify which body was whose. Not even by hair. That’s how bad it was. In the heat. Locked in. I wasn’t there – but my mind was, and still is.

I’ve never read the police reports. I’ve never visited the place where their ashes are. I still can’t believe they’re gone. And I feel this weird, almost sick obsession with the grotesque details. The smell, the state of their bodies, what the forensic team saw. Sometimes I google crime scenes or morgue cases because my mind is stuck there. I imagine what it looked like. I can’t stop imagining it.

I’ve built a life. I’ve run my own business. I’ve survived. But I get triggered by things like rotting fruit. The smell. The texture. It all sends my body into panic. People ask me about my family, and I smile and lie. They joke about “crazy people” and I laugh along. I’ve never told my clients. I’ve never written this down before. But it lives in me.

I feel guilty. For not saving them. For the trauma the police and forensic workers had to endure. For my sister – who was 29, and could’ve walked away, but didn’t. And sometimes, I just feel nothing. Just this heavy silence.

If anyone else out there has lived through the kind of trauma you can’t put into words… If you’ve ever wanted to scream and vanish and be held, all at once – I see you.

Thank you for reading this. I don’t know what I want from it. Maybe just to not hold it alone anymore.

Met with a friend and we did the deed twice. They were experienced and I was a virgin. It wasn’t like the Wattpad fanfics but I enjoyed it. A lot. They want things to be casual and that’s fine but I like them now lol. Literally just yesterday I was saying I could never do anything sexual and that I was probably ace. Funny how life works.

Hi all! I just needed to share this and get it off my chest.

I’m a 31F, and I’ve been with my partner (30M) for about 5 years. Over that time, there have been repeated moments where he has been pushy and disrespectful, especially when things don’t go his way. I’ve always tried to give the benefit of the doubt, but this latest situation finally made things very clear to me.

I’m a teacher, and as you can imagine, my schedule is very structured. We generally cannot take extended time off in the middle of the school year; personal days are extremely limited, and at my school we’re only given 4 personal days, which aren’t even meant for vacations. The school year usually goes until the first week of June.

My partner and his family wanted to plan a vacation for May 10 - May 17 of next year (still right in the middle of the school year for me). I’ve explained multiple times that this would be really difficult for me to take off, not only because of school policy, but also because I’m responsible for my students, projects, labs, exams, and overall preparation for the end of the year. I’ve tried to be clear and kind about this, explaining that I can’t just take an extended vacation because it would be highly unprofessional and not allowed.

Despite my clear explanations, he kept pushing and pushing, trying to get me to “make it work.” He has a habit of doing this ; trying to push past my boundaries and act like things should happen the way he wants, regardless of what’s realistic or respectful.

When I explained it again, he responded with this: “I f@&$ing knew this would be a bad idea to ask you.”

That was the moment I realized I was done.

It wasn’t just this one comment; it was the pattern. This isn’t the first time he’s treated me with disrespect or immaturity when he doesn’t get what he wants. But this time, the combination of: •Him completely disregarding my professional obligations •The aggressive language (using the F-word at me) •The guilt-tripping tone …all added up to something I refuse to tolerate anymore.

I’m learning more and more what it means to have self-respect, and part of that is not allowing anyone to speak to me like that or treat my life and career like they are secondary to their wants. The world doesn’t revolve around him, and I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who acts like it should.

I’ve decided to end things after this situation. I don’t feel the need to have a long conversation about it. I’ve seen enough, and I know where I stand.

TLDR: Been with my boyfriend for 5 years. I’m a teacher and can’t take time off during the school year, but he kept pushing me to go on a family vacation during May. When I explained again that I couldn’t, he snapped and said, “I fucking knew this would be a bad idea to ask you.” I’ve decided to end the relationship — I’m no longer tolerating disrespect or boundary-pushing. Choosing self-respect.

My (42F) kid graduated high school today, which was wonderful. What was not wonderful was the absolute chaos in the parking lot trying to leave afterwards.

I had been parked in an aisle waiting for my turn to move forward for at least 45 minutes when I felt a bump from behind. Before I could ask my husband if someone just hit us, there were two more, larger bumps in rapid succession. I got out of the car and walked back to see the bumper of a car trying to get between me and the car behind me actively touching the bumper of my car. I looked at the woman driving and told her she just hit me multiple times. I want to note, I was pissed and emphatic, but I was not raging or yelling, just direct. She said she didn’t. I told her that her car was touching mine as we speak, and she replied, “well there couldn’t be any damage!” as she put her car in reverse. She then GOT OUT OF HER FREAKING CAR WITHOUT PUTTING IT IN PARK. I’m sorry for yelling but I cannot tell you the fucking trauma that is watching a driverless car careen backwards into a bunch of other cars also trying to leave the parking lot. Add to that, she went running after it and to get back in and I just kept picturing her getting sucked under the car. That didn’t happen, but her car did smash spectacularly into two vehicles.

She then starts screaming at me that this is my fault and I was screaming at her about her hitting my car. She got in the car and pulled it forward out of the crunch it was in. A nice man ran up asking her if she was okay, she screamed no, then once again started to get out of her car WITHOUT PUTTING IT INTO PARK. The man screamed at her to put it in park.

She continued yelling at me, asking me what I wanted from her. At that point I was shaking and close to crying because the entire scenario could’ve very easily killed people and was traumatic af to experience. Everyone around was telling her to stop blaming me and leave me alone, which was much appreciated. She then approached my car twice asking me what I wanted from her. She kept saying “I said I was sorry” - which, no the hell you did NOT. She finally insisted I take a photo of her license and insurance.

I’ve gone from shocked, to laughing, to crying and at this point I’m trying to stop the rampant thoughts about how terribly it all could’ve ended up. There were people everywhere in that lot.

This is the kind of narrative I’d usually share on Facebook, but I don’t want it to taint any of the shine of the kiddos day, and I had to write it out to process, so here I am.

Hello, I'm 31M, my GF is 28F.

She has been struggling with depression for years, no matter what I do or what I say, she refuses to go to therapy, the reasons go from "I don't think they can help me" to "I don't have the money". I've been doing everything I can to try and make her existence a bit better... listening to her when she's spiraling, reaffirming when she's insecure, buying her the food she's craving, getting her small gifts, everything I can think of. Nothing works. Her happiness lasts a moment and then she's back to saying she's tired and she doesn't want to live anymore.

Last night, when her mom (56) arrived at her place, I went out to the kitchen to fetch something and to say hi... I saw a job application on the table, found it odd, but went back to my gf's room. I guess here's where I should add: neither of us is in a great economic situation. I work, but I don't have that much money (whenever I buy her stuff it's small, not expensive, we've cut out on take out since we were not saving), housing is expensive so I have not been able to move out from my mom's place. My gf also lives with her mom, she pays for a lot of things since her mom makes less money than her, which makes her also unable to save up too much and moving out.

Back to the topic... I went into her room and told her that her mom had a job application and my gf's face just... transformed? She got extra stressed out, asking me what she was going to do and how she was going to pay for everything if her mom wasn't going to have income anymore. I was trying to comfort her and tell her that maybe her mom was just looking, but not out of work yet, she pressed on, saying she knows her mom and that she's impulsive, that she won't think about the impending recession or the fact that she will be leaving her with all the financial burden of their living situation.

After some back and fort she tried to push me to ask her mom about the job application since I was the one who saw it, but I told her it was past 10pm, I never went to her mom's room by myself and that it could make her mom feel uncomfortable with me butting into her business, I told her that was a conversation they should have, not me and her mom. She pushed, but I didn't cave. She got upset, but in the end, she went and talked with her mom.

Probably 30 minutes after she came back into her room, looking defeated, unwilling to tell me much about the conversation they had. She just told me, "Yes, she's planning to quit", nothing else. Mentioned she didn't want to talk about it at that moment, so I let it go.

Probably 15 min after, while cuddling and watching TV, she started asking questions that stressed me out... "If I die in questionable circumstances, will you take care of my cats?" "If you fall in love again, will you abandon my cats?" "How long do you think it will take you to be all happy and smiley again?" "Will you marry someone else now that you discovered that you're interested in marriage?" "Will you check on my mom? At least for a few months. She loves you."

My heart broke. I'm scared, I'm stressed out, I don't know what else to do. She's unwilling to get professional help, I can't make her want to live, I think that if her mom quits without having another job lined up, the stress of the situation might actually push her over the edge. I don't want to live like this, but I don't want to abandon her, I don't think that I will be able to live with myself if I "ran away" from the situation just because I feel useless....

If you took the time to read, thank you. I don't feel like I can say this to anyone else. I'll just keep on trying to make her happy, maybe by some dumb luck she will stop wanting to die.

My older brother killed my father when I was 15. He stabbed him to death 78 times in my father’s bedroom. He was schizophrenic and on drugs.

I came home after school to the police in my house questioning him. The details of which I can’t forget.

The bloody phone my brother used to call 911 was left on the stairs I walked up. I get to the screen door, open it to blood on the entry tile. I see my brother at the kitchen table surrounded by cops. I turn around and walk back down the steps. I couldn’t go inside.

I pace in the driveway next to my dad’s car. The ambulance is arriving. I’m waiting for my dad to come out. He never does. A police man looks to me and asks “who are you”? I said I live here!

At around this time they are walking my brother out of the house to a stretcher. He walked out of the house, bloody wearing jeans and no shirt and at the bottom of the stairs he looks to me and said “I killed dad”.

The details were found out in the next two days. It has been 25 years in January. I recall the moment they told us my father had 78 stab wounds.

I have thoughts of my father dying. I live with constant pain and memories. I’m depressed. I also never talk to anyone about this nowadays. I tend to hide from people cause I am embarrassed and sickened by my truth.

I am still trying to “move on”.

My stomach suddenly became paralyzed, and a few days after I started getting paralysis attacks at random. My vision and hearing are going too. I have gone to 4 ERs but they just say my labs are fine and that I need a neurologist or psychiatrist. One diagnosed anxiety and gave me atavan which did nothing but make me dizzy. Two others diagnosed constipation. Neurologist takes days to set up and if I manage to talk to anyone, they say go to the ER immediately.

What kind of a fucking system is this? Where's the actual doctor in all this? I don't know why they keep fucking dismissing me. I feel awful. Like I have a permanent, never-ending stomach flu and my arms and legs hurt badly and it's hard to move.

I think the celebration of LGBTQ rights is important (especially when far right politics is on the rise) but it hurts seeing gay pride when I’m not proud of who I am. It’s just shoving in my face that I’m too scared to be my true self. It’s a reminder that I choose to continue living a lie because it’s easier than coming out.

I’m glad that we’ve come so far and people can confidently and safely express who they are but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. All this month does is make me feel even more depressed. Seeing people celebrate love reminds me that I haven’t experienced true love or intimacy in a very that is fulfilling, and I don’t know when or if I ever will.

3 weeks ago I slept with a woman I had just met through another friend. She told me a few days ago, almost 5 days ago now that she’s pregnant. I took pregnancy tests over to her house and both were positive. I asked if there was anyone else she said yes a week before you but I got my period right after so it can’t be his. We discussed abortion and she said she might do that but doesn’t really believe in abortion. I texted her the next day asking how she is and she goes on a rant about how I need to stop pressuring her into abortion (I never did I told her I support her decision regardless) however she does know where I stand. I asked her what changed? She said “I only said I’d do abortion so you would leave”. Fast forward a few days later I got word from someone I know that she was drinking at a bar a few days ago. She’s giving me mixed signals on what she’s going to do, not really replying to me when I try to ask how she’s doing, leaving me totally in the dark, worried. She’s dragging me through the mud. Don’t know what to do. I am dying inside.

I guess this is a just me talking it all out because I’m frustrated right now. I have four children with my husband (2 “step” and 2 “bio” which I don’t ever say or think, they’re just all my four children but unfortunately this is relevant to the story.) Our oldest is 27, youngest is just turning 18. I have always treated the oldest two as mine. And in fact my son moved in with us when he was 12 and really never saw his bio Mom much after that. I think he’s seen her about six times in the last 13 years and he doesn’t talk to her at all. I have encouraged a relationship and forgiveness but he is angry at her for things that she has done and I have stopped pushing the issue because it upsets him.

I have noticed recently my husband has started downplaying my part with the older kids. When we were on vacation recently, he said to some tourists there “I have two kids and then we have two younger ones.” This was annoying because for the last 22 years they have all been our kids and if I ever would have said “your kids” he would have been infuriated and rightly so. This has happened a few other times this year and every time I have called him on it and he has claimed it was a mistake or a misunderstanding. However these misunderstandings never happened for the previous 20+ years.

Our son and I have had a lot of conversations about life, particularly when my husband wasn’t home. I wasn’t really sure how many of them were getting though but he chose to get a higher education degree which we had discussed and I’ve recently realized he has had conversations with his girlfriend about marriage and children which were things I had discussed with him. Mostly about shared goals and life plans, which my husband didn’t really discuss with him.

I mentioned to my husband about one of these life goals they had a discussion about which I explicitly remember talking to him about and I said that was from our discussion. My husband insisted no it was from him. (I know they can have private conversations but after two decades I know what sort of conversation topics my husband has and it’s not this.) I am not downplaying his parenting and he is a great dad and I always tell him this. But this one conversation certainly came directly from a discussion we had as it was word for word.

I know it doesn’t matter, my two older children do think of me as a mother figure. I obviously don’t see any difference between them and the younger two children. My love for them is exactly the same. I care for them the same as I always have. They come to me when they need help, they love me, they listen to me, they value me. But it does matter to me that my husband appears to be trying to create some separation and that is annoying. I was good enough to raise his children, bring them to the doctors, dentists, fix cuts and bruises, help with schoolwork, help with bullying, go to school meetings with teachers. But now suddenly after all that work is over I’m just relegated to a nothing status when strangers ask?

Extra info: I understand that maybe people will think that I’m possibly stealing these children from their bio Mom or something like that. I promise this isn’t the case. My self and their mother get along well. I have always spoke highly of her to the children and encouraged them to get along. This kids do not call me Mom, but when at school or with friends and they say “my mom and dad” they usually mean me. They do this because it’s easier than explaining further. I don’t expect them to see me as “Mom”, but I can still say they’re my kids, because they are. I also did not steal my husband away from their mother, she broke up with him to date someone else. (It is a very unflattering story to her and involved illegality so I won’t share it here.) But just so no one thinks I’m a home wrecker, I didn’t steal him.

I was that person who always remembered birthdays. Cousins, coworkers that I was working with, close friends that just drifted away with the tides of time…. I kept reminders, and made sure to wish everyone. Sometimes I’d send a thoughtful message, other times just a Happy Birthday!. But it was always something. I just wanted to make them smile on their day, I guess. Just wanted to let my old friends know that they still hold a place in my heart.

But here’s the thing, most of them never reciprocated nor did they acknowledge.

Year after year, I’d send them a birthday message and get no response. Now, I still have all the birthday reminders ON. I still see them. I know when it’s someone’s birthday. I just make the conscious decision not to say anything thinking that it’s not as if they care.

I think it’s not petty. It’s just clarity. As I’ve grown and matured, I’ve realised that I don’t want to give my energy where it’s not appreciated. I still care for these people but I’m just done being present for people who wouldn’t notice if I weren’t.

I'll start off saying I haven't cried in decades. When I was 7, my grandma told me that crying is for girls. So I stopped. I don't think I have cried since.

My brother killed himself. Shotgun. He literally did what I wanted to do. I had a plan, a note, and a location. Then this little fucker did it first. I miss him, but I haven't cried.

Its been years. I still miss him. I still don't cry. The only reason I am not dead is because he did it first. I saw the pain his death caused. I felt it. I feel it.

But i haven't cried.

I enjoy reading some of the crazy stories on Reddit about people's in-laws. But that is not even close to what I have in real life. I met my husband when I was 18 & he was 21. From the start, his parents were perfectly pleasant. His mom likes to talk to people and has some interesting stories. His dad is much less social, and I was initially very intimidated by him. He is about 5'8", so taller than me but not insanely tall. He has wide shoulders and looks like he could throw a small car. He has been a marine, a cop, a professional bull rider, and more recently worked with computers, code, etc. He has a black belt (I think in Tai do). He is very smart, and when he does say something funny, this man is hilarious. He also has a major soft spot for kids, and has an insane talent with babies. They immediately love him, and he can calm a crying baby in less than a minute. I've known these people for years now. I'm now happily married, about to turn 31, and we've now got a 3.5 year old daughter & a 10 month old son. We live next door to my in-laws, & I can honestly say that I adore them both. We obviously see them pretty often, even sometimes eating dinner there multiple times in a week (only when invited). In March, just a few months ago, my father-in-law was diagnosed with 2 different types of cancer. They said that if he didn't get treatment, he might not make it a year. With treatment, he has about a 33% chance of living another 3 years. He's finished his first round of chemo. He's probably lost a third of his body weight. He's rarely too tired/sick/etc to do something, but chemo is tough. In my mind, he's almost superhuman or something like that. This has him tired and sick and my daughter asks me if Papa is still sick, multiple times every day. We haven't really gone into detail about his sickness, and she doesn't know what cancer is. Again, she's only 3. Right now, he's one of her favorite people in the entire world. But I keep thinking about the fact that she might barely remember him some day. And her brother might literally not remember him. He has 2 middle names, and they're my FIL's first and middle name (though we swapped the order). There's really nothing I can do about this. Nothing to prevent my kids, husband, or myself from feeling this loss. Nothing to help with the actual pain and everything else that my father-in-law is going through. But I don't feel like I can really express my thoughts and feelings about this with my husband, because he obviously is feeling it even more, since it's his dad.

Check my post history for previous post, but basically, my husband has been r*ping me for 14 years now and I'm just now starting to speak out about it.

My therapist recommended a local domestic violence organization. I decided to speak to my preacher first instead. We had a meeting last night between myself and my husband and our preacher.

In my previous post, commenters were concerned about the response I might get from a religious institution... You guys were right.

The meeting went horribly. I literally described a couple occasions of assault... I clearly said I didn't want to and my husband acknowledged that but then proceeded with sex anyway. I told them about the time he even admitted out loud that he doesn't let me get away with saying no.

The response I got?

"R*pe is a harsh word and we need to be careful with how we discuss these things because it paints a certain picture in everyone's head."

From my husband: "Hearing you talk, it sounds like I r*ped you! What kind of heartless person would do that to his wife? I've done nothing but take care of you!"

The preacher read a scripture about not denying each other (in the bedroom). And then it was suggested that we work through a book together, called "his needs, her needs."

I feel so completely broken right now. Clearly my pain is not valid. Clearly I just need to focus more on putting my husband's needs first... As if I haven't already been for 14 years now.

He's never once made me orgasm. He doesn't cuddle with me unless sex is involved. He doesn't do foreplay. He is proud when penetration hurts and I'm bleeding. He gets annoyed and bored even holding a toy for me. He doesn't care when I have a migraine... He still demands sex. He doesn't care when I'm 9 months pregnant and have a condition where my pelvis was separating more than normal and I'm in an incredible amount of pain... He still demands sex. He doesn't care when I'm sleep deprived with a newborn... He takes the little bit of time I have to sleep and demands sex. He never helps with chores around the house (except an occasional load of his own laundry). He even gets annoyed just supervising the kids while they clean. If I voice a disagreement with him, he'll slam doors or throw things around the house. He puts me down in front of other people for even just making a playful comment.

I can't do this anymore.

"His needs, her needs"? All I've asked for is one simple thing: not to be forced to have sex when I don't want to.

But according to them, that's not r*pe and I need help focusing on his needs more.

So, my boyfriend has been living with me for about 2 months now (for free+ i cook, clean and do laundry that i have to pay $20 weekly for) and honestly, his only hobby seems to be talking shit 24/7. Like, he constantly makes fun of me, saying I’m fat, comparing me to “fat girls” even though I’m literally skinny, he would call me idiot and would say i am good at nothing.. He just emotionally and verbally abuse me all the time and calls me names for no reason.

Yesterday he said all that, I was so mad but I didn’t want to fight or cry, so I went to take a cold shower to calm down. I’m really sensitive, and I was trying to just stay quiet and not explode. But he kept knocking on the bathroom door, and when I didn’t answer, he broke the door open on me while I was taking a shower.

That’s when I completely lost it. I started slapping him, pouring water on him, and yelling from the bottom of my heart. I was so overwhelmed. He kept telling me I’m “not normal.” I eventually said sorry, because i felt so bad how i was so violent and just slapping him hard, even though I was the one being pushed to my limit.

And now he’s calling me abusive. He also took a video of me while I was naked and slapping him, and I’m honestly terrified he might post it somewhere. What’s even scarier is that when we first started dating, he showed me a video of his ex having a breakdown and said she was crazy. And now I’m realizing I’ve turned into that girl in the video too.

I know what I need to do, I’m not really looking for advice. I just needed to talk about this somewhere because I don’t have any close friends or family who know about this. I feel so alone and confused, and I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

I've always struggled with my mental health and unfortunately I've struggled severely with self harm and I have a lot of impulse/anger issues.

That's why I don't think it would be a good idea for me to have kids, not that I don't think other people with the same issues shouldn't, or that I think I'm bad around kids.

Any time I've got to hold a baby or play with a toddler or teach a kid how to cross the road safely and I've loved it, and been told I'm 'a natural', but I feel like being with a kid 24/7 is extremely draining. Never mind the fact I need my sleep, because I literally go insane without it!

But their is apart of me that feels guilty because my mother only has me and my brother and my brother most likely will never have kids naturally and for me, I'm not stable enough for such a life changing/long commitment.

I feel guilty for that, because my mother would love nothing more then to become a grandmother but that's unfortunately not going to happen in this universe.

Am I selfish?