Posts by Andrew Doyle

This whole thread just triggered a memory of a truly bizarre situation I once witnessed.

There was this local eccentric—someone clearly out of touch with reality—who happened to see a minor local politician power-walking along the waterfront. This guy was strutting down the pier with this massive "I am incredibly important" attitude, acting as if he were the most high-powered executive in the country, far too busy and prestigious to even spare a second to acknowledge anyone or offer a simple hello.

Anyway, this eccentric approaches him right in the middle of the boardwalk, stops him dead in his tracks, and says (I'll call him Peter): "Peter, I totally get it. I feel exactly the same way when I miss my medication." 😁

ruggedranger42 said:What am I supposed to do with my life? It feels like everything is just collapsing. My whole world has fallen apart. I spent last year just partying, and now I’ve only passed one single class at university. I’m repeating the year, and I honestly feel like a complete idiot. On top of that, I’m dealing with physical symptoms—there’s a chance it could be something serious, maybe even a terminal illness or a virus, though nothing is confirmed yet. I don't know what to do. Everything has crumbled. How can I move forward and find a way to become the person I used to be? 🙄

Look, what kind of symptoms are we talking about here?
If you've already gone in for testing, there is a very high probability that you aren't dealing with the worst-case scenario you're imagining. Just go back and get re-tested in a little while if you want total peace of mind or if you fall into a high-risk category.

shadowcrane91 said:So what's the damn problem???

Sent from my Samsung using Reddit

There is absolutely an issue, but I have already provided a direct rebuttal to the Orlandian's post. I am telling her quite clearly that her claims are simply incorrect; in the schools where I actually work, religious studies are integrated into the standard schedule just like any other core subject—it happens during regular school hours, not just relegated to some arbitrary first period in elementary school.

Frank Flores63 said:Religious education is organized so that it takes place during the 8th or 9th period, or perhaps the 1st period in elementary schools. This ensures that nobody is left wandering through the hallways while religious instruction is being held.
In high schools, religious studies run parallel to ethics classes, so there aren't any issues there at all.

I honestly cannot believe we are still having these kinds of debates.
Religious education is taught by either degreed theologians or degreed catechists. The former completed a five-year program, and the latter a four-year degree.
They have taken pedagogical courses, studied didactics, and mastered methodology, which unquestionably puts them on the same level as any other teacher.

Besides, just look at the USA and how much they demand theology teachers, so to speak. Nobody is out there demanding teachers for American literature or history.
😁

Since we are talking about problems—let me be blunt: K-12 education is mandatory for all children. While kids are physically present at school, they are required to be following a legitimate curriculum designed for their development. Sitting around in a library staring blankly at a screen is not "education." Furthermore, it is not the job of the school librarian to act as a babysitter, nor do they have a structured academic program to offer those students. It would be a completely different story if, during religious studies, there were actual alternative coursework provided—like Ethics classes in high school—for those who aren't participating in the religious program.

Frank Flores63 said:Religious education is organized so that it takes place during the 8th or 9th period, or perhaps the 1st period in elementary schools. This ensures that nobody is left wandering through the hallways while religious instruction is being held.
In high schools, religious studies run parallel to ethics classes, so there aren't any issues there at all.

I honestly cannot believe we are still having these kinds of debates.
Religious education is taught by either degreed theologians or degreed catechists. The former completed a five-year program, and the latter a four-year degree.
They have taken pedagogical courses, studied didactics, and mastered methodology, which unquestionably puts them on the same level as any other teacher.

Besides, just look at the USA and how much they demand theology teachers, so to speak. Nobody is out there demanding teachers for American literature or history.
😁

In the schools where I actually teach, religious ed follows the exact same schedule as every other mandatory subject on the roster. It’s not some special outlier. Any kids who aren't enrolled in the religion classes just spend that period sitting in the school library like everyone else.

shadowcrane91 said:And as long as most Americans still identify as Catholic, nothing is ever going to change...
Amen

Sent from my Samsung Galaxy J3 using Reddit

So I guess people of other faiths in this country just have to deal with it, because as long as their votes stay in the minority, nothing changes...
Amen

Sent from my Samsung Galaxy J3 using Reddit

No, that Treaty has absolutely zero connection to you as part of the majority.

Sarah Hall53 said:Honestly, you could have 75% of Americans declare themselves Pastafarians tomorrow and it wouldn't change a thing—the international treaty would still be perfectly valid. At the end of the day, those big interstate agreements don't care about how the majority chooses to identify 😉
It’s just how the legal gears turn. r'Amen 😬

Just wait until we all start identifying as Jedi.
😁

shadowcrane91 said:Look, I didn't enroll my kids just to hunt for easy grades...
Honestly, it never even crossed my mind (but those are exactly the kind of messed-up motivations I'm talking about)

In my case, I actually had to show up for religion class, and absolutely nobody in my class ever skipped out to go get coffee during that time. 🤷

That "free period" thing only applies to the kids who *didn't* sign up for the class...

But again, don't blame the subject matter itself....
As long as there's a massive crowd of parents demanding their kids get religious instruction during school hours, it's going to stay on the curriculum....
And as long as 95% of parents force their kids into it, it's not getting scrapped just because of that other 5% (no matter what the actual reasons are for that 95%)

Sent from my Samsung SM-J320FN using Reddit

Absolutely not.
As long as that agreement with Vatican City signed by the US government back in the mid-90s remains in effect—religion stays in the schools. So much for our supposedly secular nation.

And regarding this idea of the "majority"... let me tell you about my local municipal daycare. We had 27 parents on one side pushing for Catholic grace before meals, and I was the only single person standing my ground saying I didn't want that. They didn't manage to force it through (not after I brought in journalists and lawyers to back me up). And yeah, they gave me the death stare for a while because, apparently, I was personally responsible for their little ones not praying before lunch. You want prayer before a meal? Go to a private religious preschool or pray at home. It has no business being in the only public, state-run daycare in town, especially when I, as a parent who doesn't want this, have zero alternatives. I pay my taxes for that daycare just like everyone else. A public daycare in a secular country!

It's indoctrination from infancy—exactly the kind of thing that pedagogy, common sense, and actual tolerance should be fighting against.

Regarding religious classes in school, luckily here they are scheduled either first thing in the morning or at the very end of the day. My kid actually looks forward to arriving a bit later or getting to head home early because of it.

lonehound14 said:Since I couldn't find an open thread here specifically discussing suicide, and seeing as one was recently locked, I wanted to bring up the connection between mental health crises and road safety. Specifically, can we do anything to help people before they take their own lives and end up killing innocent bystanders in the process?
I actually started a discussion on another thread about a highway accident where it looks like the driver went the wrong way on a major interstate, essentially committing suicide and taking two innocent people with them.
What kind of methods could actually identify these types of tendencies in drivers?
Can extreme road rage triggered by someone else's minor mistake be seen as a red flag for this, or is it something else entirely? More importantly, can society implement any effective ways to mitigate the fallout from these disorders?
Has anyone here ever felt a similar impulse—just pure, dark frustration with traffic situations?
I’d appreciate hearing about your experiences or any personal struggles you've dealt with regarding mental health.

I have no clue. Go watch "Minority Report"—maybe you'll stumble upon some brilliant idea there...

lonehound14 said:Since I couldn't find an open thread here specifically discussing suicide, and seeing as one was recently locked, I wanted to bring up the connection between mental health crises and road safety. Specifically, can we do anything to help people before they take their own lives and end up killing innocent bystanders in the process?
I actually started a discussion on another thread about a highway accident where it looks like the driver went the wrong way on a major interstate, essentially committing suicide and taking two innocent people with them.
What kind of methods could actually identify these types of tendencies in drivers?
Can extreme road rage triggered by someone else's minor mistake be seen as a red flag for this, or is it something else entirely? More importantly, can society implement any effective ways to mitigate the fallout from these disorders?
Has anyone here ever felt a similar impulse—just pure, dark frustration with traffic situations?
I’d appreciate hearing about your experiences or any personal struggles you've dealt with regarding mental health.

No, I haven't felt any such impulses so far...

Charles Rodriguez37 said:I suspect the reasons you had back then probably seem pretty ridiculous to you now. 😉

Laughable? Absolutely not. They weren't funny then, and they sure as hell aren't funny now. That pattern of self-destruction might have changed its outward appearance, but the core remains exactly the same. I'm still dealing with psych meds and seeing a therapist today. So, let me be very clear: this stuff is never a joke.

Back when I was nineteen, I attempted to end it all by taking a cocktail of pills. To be perfectly honest, the last thing I wanted to see were my friends—or what I *thought* were my friends. In reality, I didn't care to look at anyone for very long. I only ever discussed the whole ordeal with the therapist they assigned to me, and even then, it was only because they practically forced me to talk. Beyond that, I kept it to myself. It took an incredibly long time before I could even bring up the subject with my parents, let alone actually process it out loud with them. For the most part, everything I ever wanted to say was poured into a suicide note. My only desire was to simply vanish from this earth. I wasn't even angry at anyone, or anything... I was just empty enough to want to disappear.

Sarah Myers8 said:Hey, first time posting here. Hoping someone actually has some decent advice. So, I'm a junior architecture major. My focus? Non-existent. I can't get anything done, and even when I do manage a few things, they're total garbage. When I started college, I was on fire—fit, happy, totally driven. I basically lived in the studio, rarely went out, but honestly? I loved it. Then sophomore year hit and I realized my body couldn't handle those all-nighters anymore. My health just tanked. I’m constantly sick. My GPA took a massive dive too, which sent me straight into a depression. It's like I just let myself down. Now that I'm a junior, the dread is real. I know I'll eventually have to pull an all-nighter again, but instead, I just sit there scrolling through stuff online. I can't focus. I can't force myself to work. On top of everything, I feel empty. Just zero motivation. I could stay in bed for days doing absolutely nothing... I've reached the point where I won't even leave my apartment for days at a time. I've never been this irresponsible or lazy in my entire life... and then the next day, I'm just pissed at myself because I wasted another day. It's this endless, vicious cycle I can't break. Throw in constant waves of sadness, rage, and disappointment 🙂... I recently ended a long-term relationship where I felt miserable, and things were actually looking up for a second, but now it feels like I've hit another dead end. I tried hitting the gym to get back on track, but after one week, my lymph nodes started swelling up and it's been going on for two months. I've already burned through three rounds of antibiotics—two for my throat, one for a bladder infection—and nothing works. I don't even know how to start fixing my head or my body. I'm 20 years old, but I feel like I'm eighty. And look, I used to be such a positive person. I always gave it my all... now, it's like that person is just gone.🙄🤷

They still exist, but life isn't a straight line; instead, we are constantly thrown into a chaotic variety of situations that we simply have to learn how to navigate.

Now, let me be blunt with you. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't dream of taking a gap year from university just to "find myself." You’ll end up wasting an entire academic year for absolutely no reason, and frankly, there's no guarantee that this supposed "break" will actually leave you feeling refreshed or ready to dive back in with any real momentum. That is my firm stance on the matter—I realize I could be wrong, but I am certain of it.

Furthermore, you have fallen into a trap where you are passively letting yourself drift through these circumstances without any resistance. My suggestion is that you start today by tackling small, manageable tasks. For instance, swap out your mindless internet scrolling for reading some course material—even if it’s just for an hour. In the beginning, that is more than enough to get the wheels turning.

Take a moment to remember why you enrolled in this major in the first place (personally, I think it's one of the most common paths students take). Surround yourself with topics related to your field; explore things purely for your own intellectual curiosity. Architecture is a stunning discipline with endless fascinating layers to uncover. Try to reignite your creativity—sketch something out for a project, set a higher standard for yourself. We all know that not every single lecture or assignment is going to be captivating, but you have to grind through the tedious parts to reach the goals you actually care about.

And for heaven's sake, stop overanalyzing every single thought. Believe me, you aren't going to lose anything precious by analyzing yourself less; the only thing you're losing is time. Some realizations will happen regardless of whether you dwell on them or not. Taking a break, sleeping all day, and running away from your responsibilities won't magically return you to the person you used to be. Pull yourself together and take incremental steps toward your objectives. Don't know where to start? Start at the beginning. It is exactly like standing before a massive, disorganized pile of unfinished work that needs cleaning; you begin by picking up the very first item within your reach. As long as you keep telling yourself that you don't know where to start or how to organize your logistics, you are achieving absolutely nothing. Just move. Once you start moving, everything else will fall into place.

Chris Robinson25 said:I’d love to keep this thread right here because I have a specific question about my particular "situation."

Long story short, I’ve got a crush on someone. Lately, I've found myself drawn to girls who deal with mental health diagnoses, mostly because they actually give me what I'm looking for. I need mutual support and genuine empathy—things I just haven't found with "neurotypical" guys. Honestly, I'm just relieved I can open up to her without worrying she’ll laugh at me or judge me. With most regular guys, if I mention anything personal, the reaction is usually just: 😲 + 🙂 .

The reason I’m posting is that my former therapist thinks I should be looking for a "healthy" partner, which I really don't buy. 😬 My mom feels the exact same way. I haven't asked my current doctor yet, but I definitely plan to. 😁

Anyway, for those of you in relationships—whether your partner has a diagnosis or not—what’s it like? Are you happy with your choice? Do you find that level of understanding even when things might seem "unclear" to the outside world?

Let me know. 😁

My ex—well, he still is, technically—had Borderline Personality Disorder. I let him absolutely wreck a decade of my life because I was dealing with my own issues back then; I had zero self-esteem and convinced myself that I had to be this martyr, this savior who could fix him (that's what happens when you're young and incredibly naive). Looking back from where I stand now, it was one of the most foolish decisions I ever made. He devastated me, and frankly, I handed him the tools to do it.

Today, I am married to a man who doesn't have any emotional struggles whatsoever. In fact, he is remarkably stable, yet he remains deeply empathetic toward my own battles with depression and anxiety. I have realized that I deserve nothing less than that. At this point in my life, I wouldn't dream of being with someone carrying any kind of diagnosis. Period.

Richard Brooks80 said:Yes, I love him and my intention is to help him.
Regardless of the current circumstances, my feelings for him have not wavered; if anything, one could argue they have intensified, as difficult as that may seem.

He loved me long before these complications arose, and I am hopeful that his feelings toward me haven't shifted despite this crisis.
Is it even possible for a crisis or depression to fundamentally alter the core emotions a person once held for someone else?
I suppose I will find out the answer soon enough, though likely through direct and personal experience...

Yes, they absolutely can. Depression is a multifaceted disease, and when you factor in those other heavy diagnoses your partner is battling... frankly, the situation is nothing short of tragic. For me personally, it’s just devastatingly difficult.
I don't doubt a single word when you say you're willing to do anything for love, but let me be blunt: the path you're choosing is going to be filled with more thorns than you could ever have imagined. Don't get me wrong—I wouldn't abandon the love of my life for any price either—but I am stating my opinion on just how brutal this reality is.

Someone who is locked inside a depressive state, especially while juggling other severe diagnoses and grim prognoses, represents a massive burden even for the most mentally resilient person. I truly hope you find the strength to endure this and that you follow through on your promise to push through it all for the sake of love. From where I'm sitting, my only advice is this: prepare for an endless supply of patience and learn to swallow a lot of bitter pills—metaphorically speaking—that you probably didn't even know existed.

You are brave and compassionate, but listen to me: despite his intense mental and physical struggles, your primary responsibility is to protect yourself. I hope you understand what I'm getting at here—I'm not telling you to distance yourself from him, but I am telling you to care for yourself with the same intensity you are currently using to care for him. If you fail to do that, you won't be able to help him, and you will end up destroying yourself in the process.

I wish you luck, and I hope his chronic illness progresses as slowly as possible. Regarding that vomiting blood... you both should have rushed to the emergency room immediately. I'm not a medical professional, so I'm not trying to scare you, but that is a condition that demands urgent medical intervention. People don't just vomit blood because they have a messy lifestyle; that isn't something that just passes on its own.

Take care of yourself, and take care of him. 🙂

Hey everyone, I could really use some expert advice. I’m on the hunt for a dress for an upcoming wedding, but it’s definitely not your typical white-wedding affair. It’s more of an intimate family dinner for about 20 people, so I have zero interest in a massive bridal gown—I just want something elegant and sophisticated. I’ve done a little bit of browsing around San Francisco, but honestly, nothing has really caught my eye yet. Mind you, I haven't done a deep dive into every single boutique, so if you have any specific recommendations, I would be incredibly grateful! I absolutely cannot stand anything tacky or over-the-top; I’m looking for something sleek that simply follows my silhouette. As for the color, I’m not particularly picky—in fact, I’m completely open to whatever looks best.

Jerry Wilson13 said:So, I’m starting this thread in the hope that maybe—just maybe—the little coping mechanisms you all use in your daily "struggle against reality" might offer some inspiration or a bit of encouragement to me.

It’s happening to me again... I log onto Facebook just to check a quick notification or finish some paperwork, and then—boom—the avalanche hits. It’s like this endless flood of news about everything going on in the world, and it just leaves me feeling bitter. It’s that heavy sense of helplessness... and more often than not, it just turns into pure sadness.

Whether I’m scrolling through some news site, flipping through channels on the TV, or just catching up with my neighbor on the sidewalk... it doesn't matter. Anywhere, anytime, with anyone—the conversation always hits the same wall. It's just the same endless cycle of daily or weekly horrors unfolding across the world.

Since I’m someone who wears my heart on my sleeve—honestly, I’ve always been pretty emotional and high-strung—it hits me so hard sometimes that I just can't seem to pull myself together. It leaves me feeling totally shaken. I keep asking myself: Have I taken things too far? Is this all weighing on me because I’m overthinking everything, or am I just struggling to handle this massive tidal wave of emotion hitting my psyche? 🙂

It’s honestly so hard for me to come to terms with living in a world like this.
I’m not depressed. Honestly, I still find plenty of joy in the little things that happen every single day... I’m fully aware that there’s a silver lining to everything. But, you know, there are just those days where everything feels heavy and I just shut down.

I recently came across this beautiful poem by Jack Gilbert, and I have to say, it actually helped me see things through a slightly more optimistic lens—even if that lingering sense of helplessness hasn't quite faded away yet...

How much does the daily flood of news about all those horrors happening around the world actually weigh on you? Honestly, I find myself wondering how everyone else manages to process it all. How do you even begin to control that influx, or find some way to accept the sheer weight of it?

Thanks in advance for every single post.

Yeah, maybe some people would actually find comfort in reading this poem:

A Brief for the Defense

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies...
It isn’t that people are starving somewhere else—it’s that they are starving right here.
Somewhere else entirely. Just drifting through life with flies stuck in their nostrils.
But honestly, we find joy in our lives because that's exactly what God intends for us.
If things were any different, those quiet mornings right before the summer sun starts to peek over the horizon just wouldn't feel the same.
It’s just been crafted so perfectly. Even The Bengal tiger wouldn't be able to resist it.
It’s just been crafted so incredibly well. The poor Women AT The fountain ara laughing together between The suffering They have known and The awfulness in their futur.
The poor Women AT The fountain ara laughing together between The suffering They have known and The awfulness in their futur
The poor Women AT The fountain ara laughing together between The suffering They have known and The awfulness in their futur.
In their future, they're just there, smiling and laughing even while someone else...
The whole town feels like it’s falling ill. Everything is just... heavy. But even then, there is laughter.
There is Laughter every day in The terrible streets of Calcutta , and The Women laugh in The cages of Bombay
There is Laughter every day in The terrible streets of Calcutta , and The Women laugh in The cages of Bombay.
If we choose to turn our backs on our own happiness—if we actively push away any sense of fulfillment or satisfaction—what are we actually gaining? It feels like a hollow victory, doesn't it? We spend so much energy fighting against the good things, almost as if we're afraid that enjoying ourselves will somehow invite trouble. But resisting joy isn't some kind of moral high ground; it’s just self-sabotage. I can't help but wonder why we do this to ourselves. Is it fear? Or is it just a habit of staying in the struggle because it's all we know?
We tend to downplay just how much they’re actually losing.
We have to be willing to gamble on delight. Sure, we can survive without pleasure, but what's the point?
It isn't about finding some fleeting moment of pure delight or simple enjoyment. That’s not the point at all. What we actually need—what we truly must have—is something much deeper than that.
It takes a certain kind of stubbornness, doesn't it? That refusal to let go of our own joy, even when we're surrounded by something completely ruthless. It’s like a quiet act of rebellion against a world that just wants to grind us down.
The furnace of this world. To make injustice the only...
It seems like we’re all just measuring our own focus by how much we end up praising the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
Honestly, we really ought to be grateful that when the end finally comes, it actually carries some weight. It shouldn't just fade out into nothingness; it needs that sense of scale.
We really have to face the fact that, even when everything else is falling apart, there’s still going to be music.
Once more, we find ourselves standing right at the edge, peering out from the bow of a tiny little vessel.
Anchored deep in the night within that cramped little harbor.
Gazing out toward that sleeping island: the waterfront.
It’s just three boarded-up coffee shops and a single, lonely streetlamp flickering in the dark.
To catch that faint, rhythmic splash of oars cutting through the absolute silence... just you and the rowboat.
It’s that slow, agonizing crawl toward something meaningful—reaching out, getting just close enough to touch, only to have it pull back again. You have to wonder: is that hesitation actually worth the wait? Is there value in that rhythmic coming and going, or are we just spinning our wheels?
All those upcoming years of pure heartache.

Honestly, the constant barrage of negativity just does something to my head, so I’ve completely opted out. I skip everything—news broadcasts, daily reports, informative talk shows, you name it. It’s all just too much noise, and frankly, it’s bad for my mental state.
It’s become an absolute pattern lately: every single news segment or feature story released over the last few months regarding refugees has left me in tears. I find myself completely overwhelmed by the sheer tragedy of their circumstances; seeing the heartbreak these people endure is simply gut-wrenching.
Look, I’ll be blunt about my approach to this: if there is a way for me to step up and help—if it’s a genuine humanitarian effort where I can make a difference—then count me in. But if there isn't a practical way for me to contribute? Then I'm out. I don't follow the news, I don't watch the coverage, and I certainly don't read the endless stream of tragedy. I’ll occasionally skim through some posts on Facebook just to stay somewhat informed, but that's the extent of it. Quite frankly, I simply do not have the mental bandwidth to sit around absorbing that much suffering. It’s a matter of self-preservation at this point.

Dana Phillips said:I want to be perfectly clear about my position here.
Religious education doesn't belong in our public schools. It should only be taught within the walls of the Catholic Church or in private settings.

It’s completely obvious that it doesn't belong there, but let's face it: nothing is going to change as long as that idiotic treaty with Vatican City remains in effect. And frankly, we'll be waiting forever for that to happen.
As for those religious instructors, according to what the students are actually saying, they barely do any real teaching. Instead, they waste their time on nonsense, like putting up tacky, tasteless posters all over the halls. Most kids can't stand them; they think the instructors are out of touch, and they view everything being taught as pure garbage. In short, the longer we force religious instruction into public schools, the more resentment and hostility the students are going to develop toward it.

John Brooks13 said:Hey everyone, I’m having some issues with a cousin of mine. He’s about ten years older than me. I’m just a college student, while he holds some big-shot position at a major corporation like Google. I moved to the city where he lives about four years ago to go to school. In all that time, we’ve probably only seen each other three or four times. We basically only talk to say happy birthday, and that’s it. It’s been weighing on me because, well, he’s my cousin, and this dynamic feels wrong. I’ve actually told him straight up that I don't think this is okay. Lately, I've tried to push for us to hang out more, but he doesn't seem interested. He just ignores it. Everyone makes excuses for him, saying he’s too busy or has no time, but I find it hard to believe someone can't spare time once every couple of months for coffee or to invite me to a family dinner on his birthday. None of our aunts or uncles make an effort either, and neither do I. We should be close, but it feels like we're strangers. It’s really starting to get to me, and I guess I don't know how to just deal with it.😢If I posted this in the wrong spot, just move it, since I couldn't find a place for this kind of thing.

You’re going to have to "come to terms" with it eventually. Maybe if you started prioritizing yourself instead of clinging to these delusional family ties that people think they have to maintain just because they're related—newsflash: they don't. Just because you feel like things *should* be a certain way doesn't mean anyone else shares that delusion.

cosmicbison182 said:One family member I grew up with is living overseas now—somewhere far from the US—and they couldn't care less about me. They never check in, never ask how I'm doing, nothing. Yet, here I am, trying to force this connection, reaching out only to realize I'm the only one asking questions. It’s always just a monologue about their life; whenever I try to squeeze my own updates into the conversation, it falls flat. It’s clear they have zero interest in what I actually do with my life. Sure, I know that when they eventually visit, everything will seem "perfect" on the surface—but I'm tired of being the perpetual listener. Why can't this be a two-way street? Am I supposed to be an expert on their entire existence while they remain a complete stranger to mine? 😢 So, what’s the move? Do I just stop reaching out entirely and wait for them to contact me—which, let's face it, probably won't happen unless they need a favor—or do I just accept my role as the resident audience because, well, that's just how some people are? I refuse to be taken for granted, though. Is there even a way to test if there's any actual affection left, or is it just gone 😢? Even the other remaining family member isn't exactly great; honestly, being around people who share my DNA doesn't exactly leave me feeling emotionally fulfilled right now.

Look, you have to do whatever works for you. Personally, I would never beg anyone—not for friendship, not for love, and certainly not for attention. In fact, I’d tell them to take a hike, along with every single year we wasted together (and honestly, the closer we were, the more brutal my exit would be). Let them deal with my reaction, and let them be the ones to figure out what the next move should be.
If someone is that indifferent or too dense to realize what’s actually happening, then there is absolutely no harm in letting the connection die.
At the end of the day, that’s just how life works—people hit a crossroads and head in different directions. It isn't a tragedy; it's just reality.

Robin Hernandez8 said:Why a special thread? Is it because you’re just... special? Haha

No, I don't really think of myself as being that special. But I guess this post falls into that middle ground—it belongs to about half of the topics on this virtual therapy couch, yet somehow doesn't quite fit into any specific category. (If you guys know where it fits, feel free to categorize it.)

So, what are you going to write about?

Well... I mean... My second birthday is coming up soon. Five years since my failed suicide attempt. Obviously.
Looking back after these grueling five years, I wouldn't do it again. It’s true that when those thoughts creep back in, I do think about it, but I have so many little reasons why I shouldn't.

So, are things better?

No, actually, they're much worse. Except, I guess, I’m more mature now and I appreciate all the beautiful things in life, even if there aren't many. The biggest reason I don't want to take my own life is the people around me—my parents, my friends, and my boyfriend.

Ah, so you aren't dying to die.

It's actually the exact opposite.
I don't want to hurt the people I love, or who love me, in any way. Not intentionally, anyway. But I do dream about being on a plane that crashes—even though, honestly, I've only ever been on a plane once in my life. I wouldn't be so miserable that I’d wish for some nasty cancer to wipe me out in a year; I wouldn't mind a terminal illness or a fatal accident at all.

Why?

Because a part of me is constantly dying. I could easily conclude that I'm already dead, like I'm just a ghost wandering this empty planet, but I can't. Because, realistically, I am living.

Does all that make you suicidal?

Nope.

Depressive, then?

Maybe? I mean, no.
I'm not depressed. I have damn Borderline. My thoughts, my desires, my plans, my behavior... they're so unpredictable. Probably most unpredictable to myself. And I hate it, I really do. I hate how sometimes I'm so happy and I just don't give a damn about any problems. I hate how, during those times, all the important people in my life actually love me. Like I'm actually useful to them and myself.
That’s what I hate more than the endless sadness where there's no hope. Those times when I can't even pull myself out of bed, when I just sit there in silence crying... no matter how much anyone loves me, I just can't handle it. In those moments, I don't even want anyone near me. Just so I don't accidentally pass a bit of that death onto them.

What about psychiatrists? Medication?

I've cycled through billions of psychiatrists and tons of different meds. The result? Globally, it’s just been an even bigger mess. Because nothing seems to work.
But it does cause harm. Over these five years, I've realized that absolutely nobody can truly help me if I don't help myself. And I've tried to help myself a million times, and even then, sometimes it wasn't even useful. Because I'm just not a problem-solving person. I just pile them up. Then I ignore them and act happy. Then I add a few more to the heap. And so on, in circles.

---If anyone is reading this (and I can already see this might go on forever), you'll probably think I'm spoiled, oblivious, or just stupid. Maybe I am?---

I don't have a job. Because every single time I get employed, the same thing happens. Everything is great, everything is fine (not that jobs are bad, it's just me), and then—bam. I'll injure myself or get sick on purpose, by any means necessary, just so I never have to show up to that place again, do those tasks, or look at and talk to those people.
Often, I don't even have to try to become incapacitated; my psyche and my body just do it on their own.
I have a house and I have food because I have parents who wouldn't let me go hungry or homeless, despite their very below-average Social Security checks. On top of that, I do odd jobs for people here and there. You know, freelance projects. That person always exploits me to the max. But it's much more manageable than going through a real job with real working hours and something constant. Something that isn't just a single project. Actually, I enjoy the projects, and I eagerly await a random call from someone who thinks we're great friends and that I'll do everything for $17. Often, I don't even know the person.
(End of the monologue about work, because my train of thought was interrupted about 99% of the way through.)

???

There's even a reason why my train of thought was cut short. It's FINALLY late enough that I can take a cocktail of pills and overthink everything until the combination of medication and exhaustion finally lures me to sleep.
It’s more about mental exhaustion than physical, I guess. Because I spend my entire day hunched over a computer, eating and counting every single calorie, and then... well, I just end up purging those calories back out, and then I feel okay. (And look, I’m not saying I have bulimia. Not 365 days a year. Maybe there are 30 days where I’m bulimic, maybe 30 where I’m anorexic, and maybe 30 where I’m just... heavy. But seriously. Most of the time, I don't actually suffer from an eating disorder.)
Pills. Honestly, pills are probably at the top of my list of things I love most. At least during these times when I can finally take them, even though they don't really *work* anymore since I'm an addict and almost 100% immune to them. But, I don't know, some kind of semi-placebo effect still lingers.
Right now, I'm on Seroquel, Prozac, Lexapro, maybe some Valium... you name it. The meds change constantly because every time I switch, things get better... well, for a couple of days, anyway.
I am such a heavy addict! And I guess it would be fine if I didn't gain so much weight from them. And from all the food.
And then, once I remember that, I slip right back into bulimia. I realized a long time ago that I haven't been anorexic—not because I wouldn't want to be, but because I just can't stop eating. I eat all the time.

Wanting to be anorexic? That sounds sick!

Not in the sense that I want to starve myself or obsess over being twenty pounds overweight. It's just... I wish I wasn't dependent on food (like, abnormally dependent) and I wish I were thin. And okay, fine, I wouldn't mind if I just *was* anorexic. It sounds better than being "fat" or whatever people say, like, "You've filled out a bit... just in the stomach area. Look how thin your arms are." I know how serious anorexia actually is. I really do. But yeah, I'd want all of that.

So, basically: you're depressed, your moods swing wildly, you take it all out on yourself, you're an addict, and you probably have an eating disorder.

You could call it that. It works, I suppose, because I don't know any other way to describe who I really am. Because most of the time, I'm not even myself.

Are you going to get to a point?

Not really. I guess the half-point is that I want to die, but I don't plan on killing myself because I'm a stupid person, and, well, I'm becoming less attractive by the day. I'm someone who is more of a person when viewed as a whole, rather than separately, yet I don't have some made-up illness. There are hundreds of people like that, just drifting. Today I'm this, tomorrow I'm that, and by tomorrow night, who knows. The point is... well... I actually wanted to ask if anyone here has advice on how to get off these pills. But I guess it's stupid to even ask that when I'm sitting here eagerly waiting for midnight so I can go to the medicine cabinet and mix them up based on my mood.
I think I can finally say something that is pretty much a constant for me.
I find life incredibly difficult, but I get comfort from that artificial sleep—ten, twelve hours of it. That's why I abuse the medication; it lets me be peaceful for almost half the day. Completely, finally. Aside from the nightmares.
And then I wake up and suddenly I'm shoved back into reality, where you're supposed to be attractive, smart, have a career and friends, a successful relationship, and regular sex. A reality you could maybe have if you weren't *you*. But since you are you, you lack most of those things and instead you have a mountain of imaginary problems along with a few real ones. And you have to be "real" for half the day. Those half-days are a dead existence for three reasons: it's life, you are the problem, and it's the pills.
I have proof:

-I'm overweight because that's just life; it's just who I am, and I absolutely cannot bring myself to move or exercise for more than a week before I change my mind and decide I'm actually gorgeous and don't need that boring, exhausting workout. And lastly—the pills make me gain weight and leave me wanting to eat and eat.

-I don't have a job because that's just life—it's hard to hold down a steady job these days unless you really know how to play the game or have a great connection. Plus, because it's me, the moment I can't stand the routine anymore, I get sick for however long it takes and I just quit. And then there are the pills, which I can't live without. I HAVE to sleep a certain number of hours, and my job won't let me. So I skip them for a couple of days and I just completely fall apart.

-My relationships with the people around me are a mess. Almost as messy as my relationship with myself. I am constantly changing, and to keep certain people around, I pretend to be whatever they want or expect me to be. I play roles. BECAUSE that's apparently what some people need in life. And it's because I'm someone who is anything but myself. And I take pills. It's impossible that they don't have something to do with it.

-I feel... I don't know, just foolish and miserable and sad, yet somehow happy and exhausting and—well, foolish again. It’s like, when you're stuck in that headspace, life just kind of conspires to keep you there. And if you're feeling pathetic, you almost don't fight it, because honestly, leaning into the misery feels like the path of least resistance. So you're sad, then you're happy, then you're back to being sad, and in those low moments, you think, "I won't do anything drastic... I'll just be happy again, it doesn't make sense to give up." That's just me, I guess. And it's the medication. Because, truthfully, I'm not even sure if things would be this way without them. Probably not. I'd probably just be dead. I forgot to mention the main reason I can't stop taking them... it's because without them, that pain comes back. The pain that affects my happiness, my relationships, and everything else. Especially just... living.

So, what's your point?

Nothing. The end.

The absolute smartest thing you can do is taper off these medications under strict medical supervision. Period. People on an online forum aren't all on the exact same prescription, and even if they were, there is no guarantee that everyone’s body will react the same way when trying to step down from a regimen. It is incredibly dangerous to wing this based on internet anecdotes.
Reach out to your primary care physician or your psychiatrist if you need assistance with this process.

Jacob Long said:It’s not about loving the flaws—it’s about accepting the whole package. You embrace who you are right now, imperfections and all, because you don't need to be flawless to be worthy of love or just to feel enough.
Since you actually give a damn about yourself, you'll naturally work on the stuff that can be improved.
But things you can't change? Like if someone was born without a leg? You just accept that and love the person as they are.
We all love people despite their baggage, so why wouldn't we extend that same grace to ourselves?

And that is precisely the point.👍

Terry Newman7 said:Before you jump in with your answers, just... think about this for a second—do you actually accept yourself, like, TOTALLY, just the way you are?

If you do—how did you actually pull that off?

If you don't—what’s the hold-up? What's stopping you?

Out of everyone I've ever worked with, I think I only had one coworker who truly accepted herself—or at least, that was the vibe she gave off. She wasn't some bombshell or someone constantly glued to a makeup mirror, but people just gravitated toward her—guys, girls, whoever—because she just "radiated" confidence. She was just a totally cool woman, really easy to get along with too.

I've been thinking about her for years. My best friend was actually the first one to point out how much she embraced herself, but I didn't even think about it at the time—I just knew she was awesome.

She accepted everyone else exactly as they were, including her husband, who—let's be real—had his fair share of wandering eyes. But she just knew it was nothing more than him being restless; it never caused any drama because she had much bigger things to worry about, and she knew deep down it didn't actually mean anything to him.

She accepted me, she accepted others, she accepted herself... we all just felt good when we were around her. She was magnetic.

It got me thinking—because personally, I don't accept myself, and honestly, I never have. I'm pretty sure it definitely stems from my childhood. Maybe her childhood was just... better?

Now that you've read this, take a beat and answer—do you fully accept yourself? And how does that actually show up in your life?

Yes, I accept myself completely. I am who I am, and frankly, I couldn't possibly be any better version of myself than I am at this very moment. That’s true despite my flaws, despite the specific struggles I deal with, and regardless of everything I’ve endured or the mental health battles I'm still fighting... this is me. One of a kind. And yes, I accept myself fully.

I grew up under parents with incredibly high expectations. Everything had to be flawless; I had to be the absolute best at everything I touched. I was expected to reach the highest levels of education, find a wonderful husband, have children... and eventually, I checked all those boxes. But now, at 37 years old, I finally realize that I have the right to make mistakes without tearing myself apart. I have the right to fail. I don't have to be some "super-woman," a perfect mother, daughter, or wife every single second of the day.
I have the right to give myself a hug when I mess up and offer myself some comfort instead of constant self-punishment.

I have the right to be exactly who I am. And I accept myself completely—perfectly imperfect, just as I am.