Jesse Brown5 said:I was wondering about the origins of fetishes... how they actually start.
For instance, why might someone find arousal specifically in being the one in control, or conversely, in being submissive? Or why do certain objects or body parts, like shoes or feet, become such intense triggers? I'm curious about where that fixation comes from.
I'm looking for the root cause rather than just a list of specific kinks. Where does the psychological foundation lie? How do these things develop?
Does anyone have any book recommendations on this subject?
Samuel Miller21 said:When we are struggling with depression, the most common way people try to comfort us is by pointing out those who have it even worse—as if witnessing someone else's misery is supposed to somehow lift our spirits...
Those of us prone to depression are often also prone to intense feelings of guilt, which usually results in—or at least in my case, exacerbates—an even deeper depressive state.
Similarly, I constantly receive these chain emails filled with slideshows about starving children or the destitute, always paired with some lofty message about harmony, happiness, and finding peace. Most of them feature that overused, award-winning photo of a malnourished child waiting for a vulture, all seasoned with these hollow humanitarian platitudes about enjoying life and appreciating the little things.
Is it just me, or is there something deeply perverse about this approach? Should someone else's tragedy really be used as a motivator for our own happiness?
I guess when you start thinking that you could've been that starving kid waiting for the vulture, you realize things might not actually be that bleak.
I swear, I’ve had this happen where I drift off and end up in this weird half-sleep state where I'm still totally aware of everything. And then... I don't know, maybe it's just my head, but I feel like something is standing right behind me and I can't move at all. Just total paralysis.
crimsonwalker80 said:I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.
I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.
Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.
The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.
In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.
I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?
I went through this as a kid and it was pure terror. I could never explain it to myself either, thank God it doesn't happen anymore.
Sam Hall59 said:The question in my title 😢—also, how does one actually become more likable, approachable, and social? Any tips would be much appreciated.
It’s either there or it isn’t. Or, I guess, if you want to be more precise, it’s called socialization. You pick it up during childhood and as you grow up, maybe? It's incredibly hard to learn later on. You don't just become it.
Alexander Lopez11 said:So, I’m nineteen years old now. About a year ago, I went through a really dark chapter in my life, where things got so heavy that I actually started self-harming. I don't think it was just some phase or kids being dramatic, because I see how much kids today seem to treat that kind of stuff like it's some sort of trend, but I didn't even tell anyone what was happening back then. I mostly just wore black, stayed inside almost all day except when I had to go to school, and I just... stopped caring about studying, eating, or even talking to people. It all really started because of some heartache with a guy. Once I finally found a boyfriend and felt happy again, that depression seemed to vanish, and I’ve been doing okay since then. But lately, those same old shadows are creeping back in. I feel exhausted constantly. I don't want to go out, I feel anxious around groups of people, and I just don't feel comfortable around anyone. I’m unhappy with everything. I can't sleep at night. And honestly, I just wish I could die. I don't mean I want to say things like "I'll jump off a balcony" or anything extreme like that, but if I could just pass away peacefully and without any struggle, I think I would do it in a heartbeat. I feel like I'm absolutely nobody in this world, and I worry that I'll never truly be happy or have a family of my own. A lot of my friends—and even just people I know—don't really get it, mostly because they see how guys always flock to me wherever I go. To me, none of that matters. I'm just not interested. Nothing interests me. I feel like I'd rather just vanish from this earth, even if it meant spending eternity in some dark, lonely grave; I think that might actually be better than being here. I don't fit in anywhere. Nobody understands me, and I've even started drinking in the middle of the day, though it doesn't help at all. I don't really know why this depression keeps hitting me, but it feels so tragic that I'm facing this for the second time already. I'm only nineteen, yet I can't seem to enjoy life the way everyone else does. Nothing brings me joy, even though I suppose I have everything I could ever want. I just want it all to end.
You're in your prime, and you really don't need all this baggage. You've gotta find something that defines you. For example, when I was your age, I was in a band, and that's what kept me going. The shows, the parties, hanging with people who actually got me. Life is good—just take the best parts. You have to rise above the bullshit because nothing is unbeatable. Just be glad you're healthy. Everything else is just noise. Believe in yourself.
Joshua Carter97 said:I frequently find myself in a situation where people either absolutely adore me or can't stand my guts... which is perfectly fine in my personal life, but I'm struggling with how to handle it professionally. It’s honestly pretty disheartening to discover that there are several colleagues who would much rather I didn't work with them anymore. 😢
Maybe you need to take a hard look at how you deal with those people and vice versa. Just be objective and figure out where the friction is. I mean, healthy relationships usually require some flexibility and adjusting to each other.
Edward Hernandez332 said:Technical skill is everything. I’m all about Jazz and progressive metal/rock because of that finesse—you can't just be some random idiot to play in those kinds of bands. It also matters to me that the music actually has soul and isn't just people showing off on their instruments.
Man... what's the point of being a virtuoso if there's no soul behind it?
Jonathan Ramirez6 said:So, what actually makes music worth listening to, or even respecting? What’s that one magic ingredient that, if missing, just kills the whole vibe? I get that good music comes from a mix of different things, but I'm trying to see if you can pin down just one or maybe two specific traits you look for when hunting for more tracks that hit that exact spot for you.
It's the rhythm. That's it. Chords are just chords, but rhythm? That's everything.
Honestly, they're one of the best bands ever, in my opinion. Not much is known about the singer, Michael Hutchence, besides him doing some art film when he was young. The band is from Perth. Michael struggled with depression and ended up dying in a pretty bizarre way. He tied a belt around his neck while masturbating—apparently, there's this theory that you get a better orgasm if you constrict your circulation. But he went too far, didn't let go of the belt, and suffocated. Pretty intense, right? Beyond the beautiful songs they left behind, there isn't much info out there about him or the band. And a band with a new singer just isn't INXS anymore, if you know what I mean.
Honestly, they’re one of the greatest bands ever in my book. Not much is actually known about Michael Hutchence, aside from him doing some art film when he was younger. The band is from Perth. Michael struggled with depression and ended up dying in a pretty bizarre way. Apparently, he tied a strap around his neck while masturbating—the idea being that you hit a better climax if you restrict circulation. But he went too far, didn't let go, and suffocated. Intense, right? Beyond the beautiful songs they left behind, there isn't much else to say about him or the group. And let's be real, a band with a new singer just isn't INXS anymore, if you know what I mean.