Hey there... I've got a bit of a weird situation on my hands...
I'm living in Brussels and tried sending $250 back home to my parents in the States. Dammit, I had to use the mail because the IRS caused such a massive mess over in the US, and obviously, the money never arrived. In the past, smaller amounts always made it through, but this most important one? Nowhere to be found. 😠
Now, since I don't know much about how these tracking numbers actually work, I’d really appreciate it if someone could explain things to me, because I need to send more money soon.
The point is, they absolutely hate foreigners here and try to squeeze every single cent out of them by any means necessary... so, if I want to get rid of these vultures, I seriously need some help. I used airmail for shipments before, and they always arrived within three days—not sure what that implies. thanks 🙂
wiredmason56 said:I would give anything to not need meds for depression, anxiety, panic attacks, or those random bouts of insomnia. Just to not need them at all. To be able to handle everything on my own... but right now, it's just not happening, and honestly, it makes me so incredibly frustrated.🙂
Seven years fighting depression, panic attacks, and social phobia. I went five years without a single panic attack before they crawled back. Now I’m trying to phase out the meds since I’m just spinning my wheels on them anyway. Maybe the pills did their job and now I actually have to face this alone. 🤷
wiredmason56 said:It’s actually wild that you managed to get such a tiny amount of Paxil. There was a stretch where I was popping them like Tic Tacs, but now my psychiatrist has switched me over to Ativan or Xanax. Honestly, most of those benzos feel like a trap, especially if you're like me and have that tendency to get hooked.
Exactly. The real issue is that these "magic" pills work a little too well to resist... at least for me. Honestly, as I get older, I've mastered the art of escaping to another reality in my head while staying physically present. I just wish I didn't need a pill to do it.😁
Kenneth Scott41 said:I tip my hat to you! People who haven't been addicted to Paxil or other types of benzos have no idea what kind of hell this is. That withdrawal can easily be compared to methadone withdrawal. I've been through both, and I can tell you that the Xanax withdrawal was literally killing my brain. It's hard to explain how it feels to someone else, but that withdrawal is "dry," and you feel like an ice cube because you're shivering constantly and your nose won't stop running, plus those intense muscle tremors and stiffness because your body is used to the anxiolytic and suddenly it isn't, so your whole system is basically in a state of shock and cramping! Diazepam is often used as a bridge while you're weaning off Xanax. Generally, at a major hospital like Mayo Clinic, the maximum inpatient dose of Diazepam is only 30mg, which is three 10mg tablets.🙂 That's why I remember clearly what Dr. Quincy told me, and I try not to exceed 30mg of Normabas a day, though sometimes I do end up taking 4 tablets, but I feel at peace because I finally got rid of that stupid Xanax that wrecked my nerves and my brain.
Look, I never even wanted to touch Xanax. A close friend of mine used to take them and kept saying how "great" they were, and how you always just want one more. 😬 -Since I’m genetically prone to addiction, I'm terrified of how that would end up playing out..
-Coming off Oxazepam was pure misery. It required hospitalization, and honestly, I was praying for death. It was just too much. Every time I think back to 😢
I’ve been sipping on 15mg of Praxiten for a few years now. It was my replacement for Apaurin—which I was miserably addicted to before seeking professional help to detox... though my psychiatrist told me this struggle was inevitable. She was right. I’ve been through seven different circles of hell with that experience... and then came the Praxiten. God 😠 . It started classically: mornings and evenings... then eventually afternoons when needed, then mid-shift doses... until I managed to push myself up to 4 pills a day. That’s a hell of a lot. I was either constantly nodding off or just straight-up sleeping...
So, relatively recently, I decided to take matters into my own hands and start tapering off "therapy." Dropping from 4 to 3 was a massive leap. For about three weeks, I felt the void left by that one missing pill, but I pushed through... then I dropped to 2. I felt that one, too. The usual suspects: headaches, lethargy, irritability... by noon I hate myself, and by the afternoon I hate the rest of the world. That dragged on for another 3-4 weeks...
-Then I summoned the strength to move down to 1.5... basically half a Praxiten in the morning, half in the afternoon, and half at night... and even that hit me pretty hard.
And just a week ago, I moved down to 1 mg of Praxiten... half in the morning and half at night... and this is fucking brutal. My head feels like it's exploding, my arms feel heavy, and I can feel every single bone in my body—and I am not exaggerating. Whether there's sleep or not, if there is, the nightmares are so vivid I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake... plus the excessive sweating... it’s a total nightmare on the N100 level.
Basically, I also cut out Cipralex, which I actually liked, reducing that therapy by 50% as well. I’m doing all of this on my own without my psychiatrist knowing... though it wouldn't really matter if she did, since I’m stuck at home 808 miles... :/
The night before last, a brutal crisis hit me. I ended up taking half a Praxiten, which wasn't the plan, but I just couldn't take it anymore...
Kevin Bailey2 said:Honestly, I think you're just overthinking it. Nobody's actually turned their back on you—you're just projecting your own frustrations onto everyone else.
You claim you don't have money for tuition... yet somehow you've got cash for drinks and weed when I know for a fact that a gram goes for $33 in Washington, D.C....
Back when I used to drink (barely seven years ago), I couldn't handle less than six beers... and even then, it wasn't cheap...
granitejackal15 said:Really? You pay for full coverage, smash the car, crack the oil pan—what happens? They fix the bodywork and you just tow the wreck back home?
granitejackal15 said:It’s complicated. You don't pay insurance for the sheet metal; you pay for the car's mobility.☕ I've never replaced an entire engine, but back when I was a reckless kid, I totaled my car a few times, and everything under the hood got swapped out without anyone asking questions.
Sure, you can drop a brand-new engine in within a month. But what then? Do you really think you can just walk into State Farm and demand they pay for a shiny new one?
urbanfox18 said:I know a guy back in the States who got totally screwed by his insurance provider. A buddy of mine had a nightmare with his Skoda RS—water flooded the engine and trashed it. He went through five different agencies trying to get it covered, arguing that the road conditions in Chicago were the culprit and that he had full comprehensive coverage. In the end, they pulled this ridiculous stunt where they claimed that while he has car insurance, the engine itself isn't technically "part of the car" under their specific policy terms. So, they only cut him a check for 75% of what a new engine actually costs. Like, wtf??
My memory is a bit hazy, but there's some truth to it. They classify the engine as a consumable part, which means you can't claim the full amount. Typical.
I had two accidents this summer. First, some guy rear-ended me; cracked my rear bumper and trashed my rim. I paid for all four myself $133, even though I got a payout from Euroherc $1933... and the car is 22 years old . Honestly, I just sold the damaged rim for scrap metal and got $67, then spent $500 on new ones. The bumper was covered.
Second case: some college girl totaled me right before I was scheduled for a paint job. Filler everywhere. My old man fixed it in about 30 seconds—just two hits with a hammer—and I got $433... from HOK insurance... . Both insurance companies cut the checks within 8 days.
The police showed up for the first crash because the other driver tried to pin it on me. For the student, her dad just showed up, they handled the European paperwork, and shook hands like civilized people.
Angela Newman33 said:The bottom line is this: when you enable someone's reckless, pathological behavior, you aren't helping—you're actually an accomplice, and you're doing them a massive disservice.
Love isn't about swallowing their crap and letting them walk all over you.
Real love is when you finally grit your teeth and stop letting them act out like that.
It’s about being honest and telling them exactly what's up.
It's forcing them to actually face themselves—to deal with their own shitty decisions and those broken patterns they keep repeating.
Anyone who thinks playing the martyr and constantly sacrificing themselves actually works needs to grow up. Playing Mother Teresa just feeds their ego and nothing else.
Look, people don't need you to bail them out endlessly while they destroy themselves—just because you share some DNA or a relationship doesn't mean you have to go down with the ship. By doing that, you aren't helping; you're just making things worse.
Sure, that logic holds up, but people caught in addiction rarely grasp the core issue. The mother ends up being a secondary factor, staying quiet just to keep some fake sense of peace in the house.
Who knows how much the old man drinks or how abusive he gets when he's wasted? Either way, he needs rehab.
The mother won't suggest it to her husband, so the daughter has to step up. In his eyes, she's an adult now—independent, earning her own paycheck. He might actually listen to her. But then again, addicts almost never admit they have a problem.
Edward Murphy4 said:Don't even try to change the subject.😉 Gotta say, this whole "widespread alcoholism and violence" thing feels a bit like science fiction to me. I never saw any of that in my family—not even close.🤷
Look, his prevalence doesn't even matter here. Even if 99% of alcoholics and violent types were in America, that wouldn't make their behavior any less inexcusable. So, honestly—I have no idea what you're actually trying to get at.🤷
Your real issue is that you clearly can't—and maybe never will—emotionally detach enough from your parents to see the big picture. They’ve still got you in their grip, messing with your head just like they have been all these damn years. But hey, enjoy it.👍 Just don't go around giving anyone else that same advice.
If you actually believe there's no link between alcoholism and mental or physical abuse, then we're done here. ☕
Edward Murphy4 said:HELL NO. If I hit rock bottom and can't even afford baby formula or clothes, I’d be a total failure of a parent—I should basically have my kids taken away and handed over to someone actually capable.☕
It’s honestly pathetic that anyone even has to explain this.☕
It’s pathetic how little you grasp the reality here. Alcoholism is practically the national pastime in America, and we are dealing with a massive crisis because of it.
It’s a grim reality. In almost every other household, women are either enduring psychological abuse or, on top of that, taking a hit behind the ear because of an alcoholic partner.
Linda Bishop4 said:She wrote that she’s in a bad spot. You, in all caps, claimed things won't get better—that life is just a miserable, broken mess. I am telling you again: things can improve. Life becomes whatever you decide to make of it. I grew up in pretty significant poverty myself, yet I never bought into the idea that life was some hopeless disaster. I always maintained the belief that things could, and would, get better. That I could build a superior life for myself, both materially and spiritually. And I have succeeded. It is entirely possible.
She isn't helping her family this way. In fact, she is degrading herself, both financially and emotionally. Naturally, she will care for her own child if she has one, alongside the father. But when it comes to able-bodied parents living on low incomes, an alcoholic father, and a mother who simply stays silent and endures? No. She owes them nothing.
The fact that we all face mortality eventually is no excuse to let people walk all over us or to ruin our own lives. Quite the opposite. It is a tragedy to waste an entire lifetime stuck in a state like this when staying in it is entirely optional. The choice is hers.
Suppose for instance her father knocks on the door and says: "Honey, I am sorry for all the pain my behavior has caused you. I have made a firm decision to go through rehab for my alcoholism. I know I have no right to ask anything of you after everything, but your support would mean a great deal." In that specific scenario, I would encourage her to be there for him.
Read my post again. I wasn't addressing her specifically; I was making a general observation.
But no, things won't get better for her. As long as she's haunted by the fact that they're moving on, she'll stay stuck. I know what I’d do.
And if being a freak for helping my own people in any situation makes me one, then fine. Let it be.
My old man was an alcoholic. He came into my room asking for help—even though we'd talked about it before—so we went to a rehab center in Chicago. He did his time. I visited him every single day and brought him supplies, even though we were never exactly close.
Edward Murphy4 said:Give me a break, that’s some seriously toxic logic right there.☕ Thank God the author clearly has a better handle on things than you do.
I don't know how old the brothers are, but regardless—get them on the right track, help them get on their own two feet ASAP, and then they can just cut ties with those manic parents and let them wallow in their own dysfunction. Good luck!🙂
Really? If you end up stranded without a dime and lose your daughter, you think you don't deserve help from her?
Look, I didn't say I'm feeling terrible right now. It's just that growing up in poverty gives you a certain perspective that's hard to ignore.
It’s plain stupid not to help your own people. If you won't step up for them, then who will? And honestly, what kind of person does that make you anyway? Just looking out for yourself and your own little life? What happens when she gets married, has a husband and a kid? Is she just going to be selfish again?
-I can already hear you saying "but that's her own family now," but whose family is this supposed to be?! -The neighbor's??
There's a lot at stake here.
As a rule, you never truly realize what you have until it's gone. By then, it's too late, and you're left stuck in that cycle of "what if" and "if only." -I'm talking about death and losing those closest to you. We all die eventually, and losing loved ones isn't some light thing; it leaves scars that never quite heal. The real question is whether you want to live with the guilt of knowing you could have helped—or at least tried—and chose not to.