Chloe fairly odd parents

You know what I'm talking about. Black comedy. Jokes about the malevolence in politics. Abuse in workplace, society and even family. Race and community stereotypes. The topic of death itself and its surrounding contexts.
For instance, you, an Asian guy affirms that your parents will abuse or even disown you over very minor transgressions.
In my worst mood, you just gave me another excuse to disown you myself as a fellow Asian myself because you have brought ruin to our image once more.
The optimist in me would think, alright, then this must be a means for the joke maker to cope and I must feel very sorry for them.
But also, I'll be compelled to ask, "Why?! Why is it that all you can do is probably giving power to this obviously destructive force that will not go away unless we do something?! If it is bad, you better think it's bad, stop pretending it's a good thing!"
About death, especially, I definitely understand gallows humor. Death is an inevitable thing so all we can do is make the best out of it.
But if said joke involves a man's antics causing someone to die and/or the afterlife still a fair ground for humor, you do not respect the value of human life nor the power of death and I will only hope that the Lord have mercy upon your soul.
Or maybe it's just me idolizing life, kindness, virtue and the absolute forces of nature so much that one slightest bit offense to any of them spells anger and confusion like a full-blown display of blasphemy.

Parents that Treat you Like Shit and punish you When your doing well, And treat you Well and Reward you when your Failing-and Hating yourself
When you start to try and develop a life, make room for all that you are, You have no idea the wall of resistance that will surface in your psyche. These parental introjections, schemas. Some vague sense of guilt for doing well. Then the worst thing, ......the sadness.... and grief .....knowing ....knowing that your parent preferred to see you failing, than succeeding. Then this overwhelming feeling of Sadness and pain, because You're aware of something that is so insidious, and destructive, and you realize that you've been doing this to yourself, failing on purpose, all these years.......for nothing.
I had this horrendous experience yesterday. A friend of mine, was telling me that her daughter was attending a celebration/gathering at a Prep-school she had attended , and my friend was overjoyed. Of course she was, that's normal. But when I was listening to her, all I felt was pain. You know that moment when someone is sharing something celebratory, and it's such a stark contrast to what you experienced that all you can think is "Please stop!, DON"T tell me anymore". Because all you've ever known, was a parent sabotaging you, competing with you, undermining you, tricking you, going out of their way to make sure you feel like shit about yourself....and using every shitty destructive-abusive tactic to make you quit being you, make you hate succeeding because they're having such an adverse reaction to your sense of pride, accomplishment, and joy. And then here's my friend telling me about her daughter, that she most likely had to make sacrifices to make that happen, , but she did it for her daughter, because she loves her daughter and wants to see her do well, be happy, have success, thrive. And then there's my Mother. I felt like a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. And I was ....angry. It's not fair.
Do you remember being like 8-11, and being so excited at school, working on a school project, and enjoying the challenge? Feeling like "this is fun, I get to show what I can do, look at me!" Then the whole thing goes fucking sideways when your parent realizes that you possess a certain aptitude, skill, gift, talent. Can't have that, noooo, can't have that. I just feel the loss. This huge gap, hole, where the experience of pride, and accomplishment should be-the look of a parent's loving gaze, just to see you happy. It doesn't have to be that you were the next child prodigy, just that you found something that spoke to you, that mattered. . And I hate that when I do things now, it will never make up for not ever feeling like I could be loved while I was happy, but only being lovable, if I was miserable and failing, and immersed in shame. THAT'S FUCKED UP!
It's an uncommon occurrence-not everyone attends a prep school-obviously-so. But just knowing that her daughter most likely was brought up to strive, thrive, do her best, apply herself, without any threats, or someone trying to sabotage her, put her down so that she never felt good about anything she did, no one just waiting in the wings and squashing any new found feelings of confidence whenever you managed to obtain just an inkling of pride. No , that's not what happened. Her daughter could freely apply herself, do well, work hard, with no fear of being punished because she had unwittingly triggered feelings of jealousy, rage and insecurity, competitiveness, shame, in a personality disordered Mother. I had so many mixed feelings; anger, sadness, shame, grief.
I used to wonder why I didn't do my best, when I knew something was important to me. Why I constantly performed below my level of ability. Why I gave up so easily.
It's impossible to explain to anyone what this feels like, what you went through with a parent like this, it's so perverse. It felt like not being allowed to do well, or feel good about myself, and I was punished whenever I accomplished anything. Punished how, you might ask? The silent treatment, constant fucking hostility and abusive comments, mocking you, teasing you, willfully withholding compliments and encouragement , emotional support when you needed it, when it would be natural and appropriate to do that (*see emotional neglect). Making it so hard to continue to do well because of the backlash-that you just quit because you can't live under that kind of threat and pressure all the time. And that part really eats at me, because it sounds like excuses, like you're just looking for a way to explain your "failing", but you just wanted the assaults to stop. So,......if I quit, and then fell into a hole of despair and self-hatred, then I would be treated -better. I was rewarded for feeling terrible about myself, and abandoning myself. It's fucking mind bending to think about. I had this thought, that wasn't really a thought , an unspoken understanding, sure I could continue to do well, but I would be made to suffer-it would cost me, or I could quit and things would get better.
You don't know where to begin to explain the idea of being "punished", how that manifested, with a parent that was always slamming doors closed , instead of trying to create opportunities to open them for you. It's the abrasiveness, the mocking, the treating you like shit when your doing well, and then treating you well and being nice when you're failing -immersed in shame-and suicidal. Them fucking watching you feel so low and shame ridden, and they're genuinely feeling happy that now they can breath a sigh of relief because you're not a threat anymore. It makes me feel so sad. I blamed myself all these years for failing, believed I was worthless and didn't deserve anything , because of her.
SO........moving forward and allowing things in my Life is frought with all kinds of internal conflicint, ambivalent feelings. I'm really aware that I'm the only one, and someone I'm paying to say, "good for you, you go, Yay!" And there's just all that sadness and grief, and residual shame for having to squash my potential, or be squashed. They punish you for doing well, and you don't know what you're doing wrong, or why it's happening. But then you get it. And your like, "fine, I get it, I"ll just stop trying to have a life". Then you forget where that came from. You think it's just in your nature to fail, or be lazy, or not try, your not "applying" yourself. So I'm glad, and not glad I know where all this internal struggle is coming from. Why when I should feel proud and happy for what I've accomplished, I feel sad and alone. People that don't support you when your doing well, and only support you when your failing are not your friends. I should be just as lovable succeeding-or happy (happy is success) , as I am when I'm struggling and can't get out of my own way.

When you start to try and develop a life, make room for all that you are, You have no idea the wall of resistance that will surface in your psyche. These parental introjections, schemas. Some vague sense of guilt for doing well. Then the worst thing, ......the sadness.... and grief .....knowing ....knowing that your parent preferred to see you failing, than succeeding. Then this overwhelming feeling of Sadness and pain, because You're aware of something that is so insidious, and destructive, and you realize that you've been doing this to yourself, failing on purpose, all these years.......for nothing.
I had this horrendous experience yesterday. A friend of mine, was telling me that her daughter was attending a celebration/gathering at a Prep-school she had attended , and my friend was overjoyed. Of course she was, that's normal. But when I was listening to her, all I felt was pain. You know that moment when someone is sharing something celebratory, and it's such a stark contrast to what you experienced that all you can think is "Please stop!, DON"T tell me anymore". Because all you've ever known, was a parent sabotaging you, competing with you, undermining you, tricking you, going out of their way to make sure you feel like shit about yourself....and using every shitty destructive-abusive tactic to make you quit being you, make you hate succeeding because they're having such an adverse reaction to your sense of pride, accomplishment, and joy. And then here's my friend telling me about her daughter, that she most likely had to make sacrifices to make that happen, , but she did it for her daughter, because she loves her daughter and wants to see her do well, be happy, have success, thrive. And then there's my Mother. I felt like a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. And I was ....angry. It's not fair.
Do you remember being like 8-11, and being so excited at school, working on a school project, and enjoying the challenge? Feeling like "this is fun, I get to show what I can do, look at me!" Then the whole thing goes fucking sideways when your parent realizes that you possess a certain aptitude, skill, gift, talent. Can't have that, noooo, can't have that. I just feel the loss. This huge gap, hole, where the experience of pride, and accomplishment should be-the look of a parent's loving gaze, just to see you happy. It doesn't have to be that you were the next child prodigy, just that you found something that spoke to you, that mattered. . And I hate that when I do things now, it will never make up for not ever feeling like I could be loved while I was happy, but only being lovable, if I was miserable and failing, and immersed in shame. THAT'S FUCKED UP!
It's an uncommon occurrence-not everyone attends a prep school-obviously-so. But just knowing that her daughter most likely was brought up to strive, thrive, do her best, apply herself, without any threats, or someone trying to sabotage her, put her down so that she never felt good about anything she did, no one just waiting in the wings and squashing any new found feelings of confidence whenever you managed to obtain just an inkling of pride. No , that's not what happened. Her daughter could freely apply herself, do well, work hard, with no fear of being punished because she had unwittingly triggered feelings of jealousy, rage and insecurity, competitiveness, shame, in a personality disordered Mother. I had so many mixed feelings; anger, sadness, shame, grief.
I used to wonder why I didn't do my best, when I knew something was important to me. Why I constantly performed below my level of ability. Why I gave up so easily.
It's impossible to explain to anyone what this feels like, what you went through with a parent like this, it's so perverse. It felt like not being allowed to do well, or feel good about myself, and I was punished whenever I accomplished anything. Punished how, you might ask? The silent treatment, constant fucking hostility and abusive comments, mocking you, teasing you, willfully withholding compliments and encouragement , emotional support when you needed it, when it would be natural and appropriate to do that (*see emotional neglect). Making it so hard to continue to do well because of the backlash-that you just quit because you can't live under that kind of threat and pressure all the time. And that part really eats at me, because it sounds like excuses, like you're just looking for a way to explain your "failing", but you just wanted the assaults to stop. So,......if I quit, and then fell into a hole of despair and self-hatred, then I would be treated -better. I was rewarded for feeling terrible about myself, and abandoning myself. It's fucking mind bending to think about. I had this thought, that wasn't really a thought , an unspoken understanding, sure I could continue to do well, but I would be made to suffer-it would cost me, or I could quit and things would get better.
You don't know where to begin to explain the idea of being "punished", how that manifested, with a parent that was always slamming doors closed , instead of trying to create opportunities to open them for you. It's the abrasiveness, the mocking, the treating you like shit when your doing well, and then treating you well and being nice when you're failing -immersed in shame-and suicidal. Them fucking watching you feel so low and shame ridden, and they're genuinely feeling happy that now they can breath a sigh of relief because you're not a threat anymore. It makes me feel so sad. I blamed myself all these years for failing, believed I was worthless and didn't deserve anything , because of her.

Hello everybody,
I (female, 27) have been together with my boyfriend (male, 27) for 5 years now. We moved in together quite early in our relationship and everything was great until November of last year, when we decided to get a cat. I had been wanting to have a cat for a long time and in 2021 I asked him if we could get a one. He told me he was not really a cat/pet person in general and he didn’t think it was a good idea, since we both work full time. It made sense at the time so I accepted and never mentioned it again. Until August 2022, when HE suggested we should get one, as he knew it would make me really happy. I was over the moon and we got our kitty in October 2022. In December 2022 we got a 2nd kitty. Cats are very social animals and they are way happier if they are not alone. My boyfriend was not very sure about it, but I convinced him.
I looove them so much. Yes, they are a big responsibility, and yes, the do make a lot of work. But I don’t care, they’re a 100% worth it. I am the one who takes care of them, my boyfriend does not need to do anything. He had to feed them a couple times since I was away for work, but that’s it. A couple of months ago we had a big fight. We have been having some trust issues (I caught him lying a couple times, hence my trust issues) and the situation was really tense between us. During this fight he told me he did not feel comfortable anymore at home, because of the cats. He told me they make him nervous when they run and play (they’re kitties?), it bothers him that we have now a cat tree and that there are cat toys laying around the house,.. you get it. During this fight he also told me he wanted us to give the cats away. I stopped him and told him that I am not the kind of person, who gets pets to give them away later. My family and I have always have pets and our last dog was with us for 17 years, until she passed away. I love pets and I see them as a part of the family. Once they are there, they do not go anywhere. Since the day they I got them, they became my responsibility and I could never do that to them. I would never forgive myself. I told him we would find a solution and make it work.
Again, I am the one who takes care of them. I clean the cat toilet twice a day and always vacuum and dust everything once I get home from work. I keep the house clean. But cats are cats, you cannot control them like a dog. Don’t get me wrong, they are not bad behaved cats, they are really cuddly and they follow me everywhere…. But they are cats.
The situation between us was still tense because of the trust issues, but I thought that we were on good terms regarding the cats. A month ago we had another fight that had nothing to do with them, but he told me he could not live with them anymore and they had to leave. He says he can’t relax when he gets home from work because they are there. I remembered him I would not give the cats away. I also remembered him HE was the one who suggested getting one and I do not think he is being fair, he also knew how it was to live with cats (his parents had 3 when he lived with them).He told me he knew it was his idea and he regretted suggesting it.
I thought it could not get any worse, but then it did: he said “if I am being honest, I do not think I even want to have kids.” I froze and asked if he was being serious. For me, it was clear that we were on the same page about kids (my fault I guess). We had never have a serious conversation about it, but when we spoke about our future, I always mentioned kids and he never said he did not want any.
He said it was not a 100% NO to kids, but he could not imagine his life with kids right now. I told him I could not imagine my life with kids right now either (we are still young and are focussing on our careers), but that I am a 100% sure that I want to have kids in the future. I have always known I wanted to become a mom. I told him I did not want to pressure him but that I would really appreciate if he could be honest with me (and with himself) since this is kind of a deal breaker. I also told him I did not expect an answer vey soon, since it is a life changing decision, but in one year or two I would like to know for sure. We left it at that.
Today we had another conversation/fight. As I mentioned, the situation is tense between us, but we have been trying to make it work. Today he told me once again that the cats have to leave. I said they are not going anywhere. He said he couldn’t believe that they are more important to me than him. I told him it has nothing to do with it, but that they are not toys you can take or give away as you please. We went back and forth for a while. Then the topic children came up again. This time he told me he is pretty sure he does not want to have any. Not now, not in the future. I didn’t know what to say. He asked me if I was a 100% sure I do want kids, I said yes. I asked him what he expected me to do now? Give the cats away and then not have any pets ever again and not have kids either? He said yes. He asked if he is not enough to make me happy. I told him he makes me really happy but I have to be honest with him and with myself. And I know I would not be happy without kids. There was a lot of silence.
He’s gone with a friend now. I’m home thinking about everything we said. This is a deal breaker, right? I am starting to doubt myself. What if we go separate ways and I never meet anybody I want to have kids with? I do not know that to do and I am really scared. Is this the end? 3 months ago I was sure we would get married and have a family together. Last year I was waiting for a proposal!
I also live in a foreign country. I already lived here before we met, I didn’t come here because of him. But it makes it a 1000 times worse being away from my family and friends. I am really sorry if my English is not perfect. It is my third language. I am also really sorry because of how long this post is. I just needed to get it all out. Thank you so much if you find time enough to read it and give me your advice ❤️

Hello there stranger.
I'm a 27-year-old guy from the UK, and I'm here in search of new friends to brighten up my day and share some of the things I love with. Life can get a bit hectic and isolating at times, so having someone to chat with would be a breath of fresh air.
A bit about me: I'm a fan of video games, and currently been playing Jedi Fallen Order in anticipation of the next game. I also love nature and greenery, science, reading (particularly keen on fantasy and have read all of Brandon Sanderson’s cosmere and am contemplating starting the epic wheel of time journey).
To balance out the more serious side of life, I'm a huge comedy fan. There's nothing like a good laugh, and I absolutely adore live standup (David Mitchell is my spirit animal).
I work in healthcare. While the job can be quite rewarding, it also comes with its fair share of stress and odd hours (which means I almost certainly will have times where our routines are in sync not matter where in the world you’re from)!
If any of this resonates with you, please don't hesitate to drop me a message, and if you’ve made it this far you may as well.
PS - I have a cat

Hello there stranger.
I'm a 27-year-old guy from the UK, and I'm here in search of new friends to brighten up my day and share some of the things I love with. Life can get a bit hectic and isolating at times, so having someone to chat with would be a breath of fresh air.
A bit about me: I'm a fan of video games, and currently been playing Jedi Fallen Order in anticipation of the next game. I also love nature and greenery, science, reading (particularly keen on fantasy and have read all of Brandon Sanderson’s cosmere and am contemplating starting the epic wheel of time journey).
To balance out the more serious side of life, I'm a huge comedy fan. There's nothing like a good laugh, and I absolutely adore live standup (David Mitchell is my spirit animal).
I work in healthcare. While the job can be quite rewarding, it also comes with its fair share of stress and odd hours (which means I almost certainly will have times where our routines are in sync not matter where in the world you’re from)!
If any of this resonates with you, please don't hesitate to drop me a message, and if you’ve made it this far you may as well.
PS - I have a cat

Hello there stranger.
I'm a 27-year-old guy from the UK, and I'm here in search of new friends to brighten up my day and share some of the things I love with. Life can get a bit hectic and isolating at times, so having someone to chat with would be a breath of fresh air.
A bit about me: I'm a fan of video games, and currently been playing Jedi Fallen Order in anticipation of the next game. I also love nature and greenery, science, reading (particularly keen on fantasy and have read all of Brandon Sanderson’s cosmere and am contemplating starting the epic wheel of time journey).
To balance out the more serious side of life, I'm a huge comedy fan. There's nothing like a good laugh, and I absolutely adore live standup (David Mitchell is my spirit animal).
I work in healthcare. While the job can be quite rewarding, it also comes with its fair share of stress and odd hours (which means I almost certainly will have times where our routines are in sync not matter where in the world you’re from)!
If any of this resonates with you, please don't hesitate to drop me a message, and if you’ve made it this far you may as well.
PS - I have a cat

I (36f) was raised by physically mentally and emotionally abusive and neglectful narcissistic parent. My sibling and I were always fed, clothed, and had a roof over our heads but we never ever received affection, advice, words of affirmation, support, or even a normal conversation. Our parent esentially only addressed us when a chore needed to be done, screamed at us if we did something wrong ("why are you so stupid?"), or criticized us for any reason (think of any topic - I've been criticized for it), any anytime. Otherwise our parent avoided any close interaction with us. All attempts to hug or initiate affection or even initiate a casual conversation about what's happening in our lives were literally pushed away ("ugh get away from me! Leave me alone!"). Invites to school events or shows were declined with "I'm too tired". We constantly walked on eggshells at home to avoid getting beaten (physically and emotionally). It was exhausting.
No one at school knew. We kept up appearances, pretended life at home was good. We did well at school, teachers even remarked "your parents must be very proud of you" and I would just smile blankly.
Growing up like this felt normal, until I saw how other kids in high school would interact with their parents. Other kids got hugs from their parents, their parents were happy to see them, and the kids could confide in their parents about anything. I was completely shocked. I had no idea parents could be nice and supportive to their kids.
If anything bad or negative happened to me or my sibling while we were growing up, we learned not to tell our parent because we knew it would just make things much worse. If we did tell our parent, we wouldn't receive any support or advice - just more criticism, belittlement, and yelling. So we would avoid that by avoiding our parent. Both my sibling and I have experienced depression and really low points in our lives and we just solidered on like it's no big deal because we were raised without that support.
Fast forward to today. My sibling and I are both doing well, good jobs, good friends, we each have our own homes. My sibling and I have both gone NC with this parent. We've each sought counseling and have each read a lot about toxic relationships with parents etc. We're each working on ourselves and trying to improve the mental and emotional aspects of our lives. Overall, quality of both our lives have improved vastly since going NC.
But I've noticed something over the past few years. Whenever someone talks to me about bad, negative, or depressing things happening in their lives I freeze up. I don't know what to say. I just sit there and stare at them hoping they'll change the topic. I know they don't necessarily want me to solve their problems, but I can't even offer a sympathetic voice or console them. I have no idea how to do that because I wasn't shown that in my own life. I don't know know how to be emotionally supportive.
Years ago a close friend of mine shared her suicidal thoughts with me. I dismissed them as strange and told her that's an odd thing to talk about and that I didn't want to hear about stuff like that. She eventually succeeded and I can't describe to you the guilt that I felt.
Does anyone have any advice or can suggest any books to read on how to offer support or console someone when they're going through some very dark times? I need to learn to be emotionally supportive of the people in my life. I need to learn how to offer the support that I never received when I needed it. I need to know what to say to someone who is depressed.
Thank you for reading.

There are two women in my life right now I've promised nothing to no one. There is this 27-year-old woman who is more age-appropriate, but I've seen red flags. She's told me her dad is very avoidant and she takes after him. I’ve seen this in her commutation patterns. I just give her space when she needs it and she hits me up.
She also seems unmotivated, despite having a degree she works a minimum-wage job and lives with her parents. None of that matters to me, but I find it odd she's never told me about her life goals. All I know is she like to party and get high after work. I'm also worried she won't understand me because I don't come from a stable home. I also found it funny when she said I’d invite you in but my parents are home.
In her defense, I've been on two dates and enjoyed my time with her. It feels like a healthy slow burn.
Then there’s this 21-year-old woman who has suffered a great deal and is an amazing person despite all that. Her mom abandoned her when she was young and her father died of cancer. She was on her own at a very young age. At one point she was parenting her siblings at 18 until her mother turned them against her. She was engaged at one point, and had a miscarriage. So a shit ton of life experience.
We've bounded over how lonely and isolating it can be to come from our backgrounds. At first I thought I’d just be a friend to her, but there’s a mutual attraction. I’m moving slower than normal with her because I want to make sure it’s not just lust. She expressed interest in a healthy relationship, with someone mature. I’d be happy to give that to her, but I don’t want to feel like a groomer, so when she tells her problems I listen instead of giving advice, however I’m always honest with her and share my true thoughts.
Red flags I’ve noticed with her. She’s extremely anxious, but able to self regulate. She has a history of dating toxic men so it makes me wonder if she needs drama. I want to start thinking about kids at 35 would she want that at 25 I don’t know.
Please share your wisdom. I won’t take your advice as gospel, but I’ll consider it. Thank you in advance.

Needless to say, I don’t like staying at hotels much anymore…
I drove 9 hours to meet my parents at a halfway mark to pick up my 2 year old daughter at an agreed on hotel. I assumed we were all going to stay there the night since we both had such a long drive. When I had grabbed all her things, I asked “Are you going to stay here too?” My dad said “No, we are gonna head back.” I was a little disappointed but I understood that they don’t like hotels much. I checked in and went to our room. It was fairly late, but I don’t sleep much at night, I am more of a night person. I turned the tv on and I was in my bed and my daughter was in hers. She fell asleep pretty quick, probably the car ride. I had all the lights off in the room, the only light was coming from the tv. I was sitting up against the headboard with my legs stretched out straight in front of me under the covers. All of a sudden, I felt something grab my toes, both feet at the same time. I quickly pulled my legs in toward me with my knees bent against my chest. I grabbed my phone and used the light on it to shine at the end of the bed. I didn’t see anything. I sat there trying to look stoic, like I wasn’t afraid, but inside I was screaming, I didn’t want whatever it was to see me scared. After a few minutes of sitting there, acting like nothing just happened, I relaxed my legs and continued watching tv. Seemed like moments later, I felt pressure next to my leg, like a hand, like someone was leaning their body onto the bed from the end of the bed with both hands down on the mattress. Then I felt pressure as if their left hand moved forward and pressed down. Then, what felt like their right hand, moved forward and closer to my knee. Then their left hand moved forward.. it felt like someone or something was crawling up to my face, slowly and methodically. I flung off the blankets and jumped into my daughters bed, hoping her innocence would save me. I was facing the wall spooning her and I seen shadows go across the wall, I jumped up and turned the light on, franticly grabbing our stuff to pack up to leave. I went down to check out, it was about 4 am., the guy working said “You are leaving early.” I said “Ya, couldn’t sleep, by chance.. do you have anyone ever tell you this hotel is haunted?” I laughed nervously, waiting for him to laugh too, which I wish he would have… Instead he replied “Why? What room were you in?”. I told him and he replied “I don’t know why they put you over there, I never put people over there. Ever since we got new owners, they did a cleansing on the building, thinking things would get better, but since then, things have gotten worse.” I told him “Ya, I don’t think it worked.”
I continued my trip, waiting for the time I could call my dad, finally it was about 7am, I couldn’t wait anymore, so I called him thinking I could just leave a message, but he answered. I told him everything. As I finished explaining my experience, I was saying “I don’t know what it could have been” as I looked out my driver side window and seen a red Corvette, it passed as I was saying that and the license plate said “SATEN”.
I will never forget that, and I wanted to share it.

41/m, single no kids, no physical health issues. I became financially independent at a fairly young age due to investing in the first technology boom (1990s), using savings my parents had set aside for my college education.
I neglected to really explore what this meant and pursued a pretty traditional career path mostly because that's what I thought I had to do since all my peers were doing it. I went to college and got a bachelors degree. Then attended a top law school and graduated with a job at a management consulting firm. Worked for about 10 years in the industry, including starting and running my own solo practice, until I realized that wasn't the impact I wanted to leave in the world.
So I left the consulting field and decided to go back into law in the public interest (ie, working at a nonprofit as a lawyer). I decided to focus on international human rights as I believe in democratic values and would like to contribute to that space.
Unfortunately, in my self-reflection, I realized that I'm not that much of an intellectual contributor. I'm doing graduate classes right now in human rights and am struggling to contribute to the class discussions. I'm an average writer. I'm seriously questioning my decision to go back into the field of law, which is so intellectually-driven.The thing is I take a lot of pride in the notion of a "career" - it's something you can talk about to friends and family members. I don't want to be seen as some fat cat who's just living off savings and passive income. I want to be respected in society for what I contribute.
What should I do? Should I stay on the path to become a public interest lawyer? Should I take time off to travel and reflect? See a career coach? Just chill and volunteer? Talk to my therapist?

Hello all.
I will try to make this as brief as possible.
TL;DR: looking to embark on single motherhood, which adventure would you choose?
I am looking to end things with my partner and father of my almost 3-year-old daughter. We are not married. Things are not great between us and have not been great for some time. I have tried and tired and TRIED and he will NOT do therapy, he will NOT try medication or even see a doctor (for anxiety? Depression? idk). He is an okay father in that my daughter is physically safe with him, he can attend to her basic needs, and he is not careless with car seat/choking hazards/sunscreen/whatever. This is important because I want to paint a picture of him fairly. He has anger issues, yelling. Gaslighting. Road rage. He has never laid a hand on me but I’ve been very very afraid in his presence. It’s emotional abuse. What he does, I know this now. We are not intimate in the slightest. We haven’t said “I love you” in over a year. Roommate status but surly roommates. I am not claiming I am perfect. But I do not have a temper. I am calm. I am an authoritative parent and supremely proud of how hard I work to emotionally regulate. It is HARD work.
I knew this was going to get too long before I even get to the advice I am seeking. I have a couple choices for how to proceed.

1. My brother who I am very close with, is offering to take my daughter and I in. He is moving to a new town 2.5 hours away from where we currently live. I would only know him and his gf (I’ve lived with them before while house hunting, we get on great). This would mean leaving my job (I am a dental hygienist and a nanny who brings my daughter). But I would have for sure housing and we’d be looking for a duplex or large house with in law suite etc. all of our incomes together means we could live comfortably in this medium cost area. My brother only expects me to cover $500 a month in housing expenses for the foreseeable future. He knows my situation well and cares for me and my daughter of course. But, entirely new town, 2.5 hours away from my daughter’s dad.
   
2. I can find a rental back in my home town where my dad lives. He is helpful and kind but unable to provide me housing right now. There are a handful of friends and relatives in the area that could help in a pinch. Rent is expensive for one income, $1400 is about right. I currently make $3300 a month. I would need to find new jobs there too but I know the area well. My home town is only an hour away from daughter’s dad.
   
3. Stay in town where I have income already and find rental here. I have some friends but no family. Co-parenting would be easier. His family is all here and I would say that’s a con for me but perhaps a plus for my daughter. They aren’t terrible people just not helpful. Rent would be slightly cheaper but maybe $1200 at best.
   

I have no CC debt. I live frugally, my car is almost paid off. I will be eligible for food stamps and childcare help once I live alone in all of these scenarios.
I have no idea what he will choose to do for parenting…probably an every other weekend type arrangement would be his preference. I will seek child support. I don’t know how custody would pan out but I don’t think he will fight as long as she is still in his life. He does not want to be primary. I know things can get nasty and will prepare for the worst.
What would you do?

We have 3 children between us. My partners son who is diagnosed with ADHD is medicated but we are struggling when it comes to setting boundaries when he stays over at our house. He is always defiant and answers his dad back, and just wants to be on control all the time, has ocd odd.its like treading on eggshells to manage his behaviour. I leave his dad to manage him and try my best not to interfere but when it comes to his son becoming argumentative and just pushing and pushing his ways and things escalating to the point where his dad gives in I can't help but intervene. It's not how it should be his son getting his on way in our house and when we have my other 2 children, one has autism and reacts negatively to any sort of upset and I'm.worried that youngest will learn these behaviours.. We've discussed ways in which to address his son as I find that his dad is always negative in the way he talks to him which causes him to react negatively and things escalate. My partner has ADHD also and I would've thought he'd understand his son more and be more empathetic towards maybe his son struggling to follow instructions..any advice appreciated from other parents in similar situation..

Parts 1, 2, and 3 can be found in this same subreddit at the links attached. Hopefully this part will live up to the insanity that inspired me to write about it!
There are…so many things that happen between 1988 and 1994 in one discipline of figure skating it is near comical. With Soviet domination of ice dance near assured during this era, the focus shifts from who will win to instead question how fast the Soviet dynasty can fall apart. The answer? Well…I guess you’ll have to see.
With Bestemianova/Bukin and Wilson/McCall opting to go to the pro ranks after their Olympic medals in 1988, Klimova/Ponomarenko seemed the de facto leaders of ice dance. Natalia Dubova now not only coached Klimova/Ponomarenko but also a married couple making their international debut in Maya Usova/Alexander Zhulin. The new rink situation pit the 2 couples against each other as each aimed to become the top couple in the world.
No one could deny Klimova/Ponomarenko in 1989 though. Skating to “Mack the Knife,” Klimova/Ponomarenko skated to victory with a more humorous and friendly free dance to expand their horizons. According to the media of the time though, this new styling for them wasn’t as beloved as their previous work. However, no one could deny their technical ability as they took the ice.
Their countrymates Usova/Zhulin nabbed the silver medal with a free dance skated to dramatic classical music. Usova/Zhulin were a team that felt like they encapsulated everything Dubova had ever aimed to bring to the ice. They floated across the ice in ways that only Klimova/Ponomarenko could sometimes achieve. They also had brilliant matching lines that Dubova liked to emphasize through her choreography. They tended to skate in a hold that had Usova in front with Zhulin wrapped behind her, consistently close together. Their gentle, lyrical skating made them a quick favorite for fans of the sport.
The Duchesnays improved from 8th at the Olympics to grab the bronze in 1989 on home ice in Paris. The Duchesnays were…the best way to describe them is that they’re the proto-French ice dance team. Their free dance was set to an instrumental version of Eleanor Rigby, and told the story of dreams and reality, where Isabelle represented dreams constantly being brought down to Paul’s reality. The Christopher Dean choreographed program was…noticeably easier in difficulty compared with the Soviets, featuring less holds overall and more lifts that took Isabelle off the ice. However, their eccentric concepts made them another crowd favorite in these years.
In 1989, Dubova also put together another Soviet team to compete against her top 2 skaters. Evgeni Platov, a 3-time World Junior champion, had just placed fifth in the world with his former partner before their split. Oksana Grishuk, coming off a World Junior title herself, moved from Natalia Linichuk’s school to pair with Platov after she split from her partner. The 2 began skating together in the summer of 1989, making Dubova the sole coach of the top 3 Soviet teams. What could possibly go wrong?
The 1990 season saw all 3 Soviet teams compete for the podium alongside the Duchesnays and, surprisingly, an American team who slipped up to 4th: Susan Wynne/Joseph Druar. For Wynne/Druar, it was the highest place finish for an American team since Blumberg/Seibert were still skating. Their free dance to “Hit the Road Jack” was a tribute to tap dance. Their style was distinctly North American, similar in style to that of Wilson/McCall, in that the woman appeared stronger on ice rather than the dainty appearance of women like Marina Klimova and Maya Usova (think Madi Hubbell compared with Gabi Papadakis for a more recent example). This style, wherein the woman was an equal on ice to her partner, was not popular with the judges of the time, so acted more as a precursor to the North American style than as a legitimate podium threat.
Klimova/Ponomarenko earned a second World title in 1990 skating to “My Fair Lady,” now fully bought into the idea of the one concept free dance but still maintaining the classical switching of rhythms within that one concept, marrying the traditions of ice dance with the post-Torvill/Dean landscape. Best described by the commentary of the time, Klimova/Ponomarenko were technically unmatched by their peers, even as their free featured less holds than had been their norm. However, their prowess still took the cake as they walked away with a second title.
The Duchesnays improved on their 1989 placement by earning silver in 1990. Skating to their first iteration of “Missing,” Isabelle and Paul truly embraced the avant garde. Dean gave his now girlfriend and her brother choreography that was simpler and easier to perform but striking in its repeated poses and lifts to make an unbreakable impression on the audience and judges, earning them first in the free dance. On a more…aesthetic note, this is the first time in my write up that I’ve seen a dress that looks like the skirt was shredded, which is just a fine precursor to the horrors of costuming to come.
Usova/Zhulin grabbed the bronze with a sophisticated tango to Piazzolla selections (naturally). Usova/Zhulin improved on their lyrical style to incorporate more speed and sharpness to their movements, which drew more attention to their matching body lines. However, the tango was far easier than their free dance the previous year, featuring more side by side skating rather than close holds. And in their senior debut as a pair, Grishuk/Platov earned 5th place with a free dance using music from “Zorba the Greek” (I truly wish I was joking). But regardless of the odd music choice, Grishuk/Platov were known for their skating skills, arguably the strongest of the next 8 years. While this free dance certainly didn’t show that off, the promise of the senior pair was apparent from the moment they stepped on the ice.
All good training rinks must carry with it insane amounts of drama though, for this is ice dance. And stuffing the top Soviet teams under one coach was bound to implode at some point. It was during this time that Dubova started to favor Usova/Zhulin for the Olympic gold in Albertville 1992. And with it, better program ideas. This came to a head when Klimova/Ponomarenko slipped to a silver medal in 1991, behind the Duchesnays. And that’s truly where the bubble burst.
The Duchesnays had an interesting season, debuting their Reflections FD which was actually a program originally meant for Torvill/Dean’s professional career before being scrapped and given to the Duchesnays…which should tell you all a lot about both Dean and the insanity that was this FD, where Isabelle and Paul were made to look like mirror images of each other. The free dance received a lukewarm reception, causing them to scrap the FD for the amateur ranks and instead opt for a second iteration of their “Missing” FD, aptly titled Missing II. Outrage from fans on behalf of Klimova/Ponomarenko was apparent, as the Duchesnays’ repeated lifts and tricks were inherently easier than the skating that Klimova/Ponomarenko were doing. But the lack of Dubova faith and the judges’ love of Christopher Dean worked in the Duchesnays’ favor.
Klimova/Ponomarenko skated to “Lawrence of Arabia,” entering the free dance in a surprising 3rd place after the original dance (OD), which had by now supplanted the OSP. After being behind Usova/Zhulin in the compulsories and behind both the Duchesnays and Usova/Zhulin in the OD, Klimova/Ponomarenko needed near perfect scores to retain their title. They would not get it. The pair attempted to expand their horizons even further with a more dramatic piece of music; Klimova/Ponomarenko put more emphasis on their lifts, which were vastly improved. But some media felt that they had lost their inherent qualities that identified them in favor of trying to prove their range. This would become a major sticking point in the Olympic year.
Usova/Zhulin meanwhile earned bronze at these Worlds, elegantly skating to “Variations” from Andrew Lloyd Webber. The couple’s lyrical and emotional interpretation entranced the audience in watching the leaders after the OD. Of course, Usova/Zhulin couldn’t hang onto their lead in the end, which really should’ve acted as effective foreshadowing of not only their competitive careers but also what was happening behind the scenes with their rinkmates Grishuk/Platov, who had placed 4th in the same event.
The summer of 1991 was absolute ice dance chaos. In a span of a few short months, all of this happened at once:
· Klimova finds out Dubova is giving preferential treatment to Usova/Zhulin. She cries in front of a Russian sports journalist.
· Andrei Bukin goes to Tarasova, begging her to take on Klimova/Ponomarenko so that they aren’t shut out of a gold. Tarasova agrees, and Klimova/Ponomarenko flee Dubova.
· Christopher Dean gets married to Isabelle Duchesnay and vows to choreograph them to Olympic glory (they later divorce in ’93)
· Alexander Zhulin, 28, begins his infamous affair with Oksana Grishuk, 19, putting a strain on the Usova/Zhulin partnership on and off ice. The affair becomes Grishuk’s fault in the media.
· The Soviet Union falls, leaving the Soviet skaters without a country to represent for a year
And those are just the heavy hitters boys and girls! Truly, an offseason to remember.
Tarasova took on Klimova/Ponomarenko and attempted to steer them toward gold amid heavy competition from Dean’s Duchesnays and Dubova’s Usova/Zhulin. A strong polka OD had Klimova/Ponomarenko in a comfortable lead going into the free dance, where they performed a lyrical and transcendent program to “Air” by Bach. The pair looked statuesque as they floated over the ice. Granted, the program had about as much substance as your average show program. But man if the couple didn’t make it look good. It was a return to form in a lot of ways for the pair, returning to their more classical roots but now with the experience of having done more dramatic works and being able to incorporate that emotion back into a lyrical program. Tarasova had her second Olympic gold medal winning team in the span of 2 Olympics, adding to her already storied career in ice dance (having led a pair to an Olympic medal in 4 of the 5 competed events at this point).
The Duchesnays settled for silver in a home Olympics in Albertville. Their free dance was set to the music of “West Side Story,” with the pair portraying the sibling duo of Tony and Maria (thank God). In a lot of ways, it was a call back to Dean’s past World title winning free dances based around Broadway musicals. And the choreography was meant to call to mind the intricate choreography of the musical, including some of the first instances of the reverse lifts naturally. However, the easier skating choreography caught up to the Duchesnays and their free program placement suffered for it. Hard to consider it a skating program if most of the dance was spent in the air or side by side.
Usova/Zhulin entered the ’92 Olympics incredibly strained. This was only exacerbated when Zhulin gave Grishuk his wedding ring for her to wear during the compulsories, to which Usova understandably lost her cool. With that in the back of their minds, it’s truly a wonder that they pulled through for a bronze medal. Their “Four Seasons” free dance was meant to tell the stories of two statues coming to life. Which seems apt for a couple whose chemistry had about as much warmth as two statues. Grishuk/Platov earned 4th place with a more modern free dance. It’s…very 80s, I don’t know how to describe it. But it was obvious that their partnership was finally flourishing in a way that their promise had predicted. Which is naturally the perfect time for more insanity to come between them.
After a Soviet podium sweep at Worlds, the summer of ’92 saw Zhulin and Grishuk’s affair escalate during the show season. Everything really hit the fan when Usova caught Zhulin and Grishuk at a restaurant together and “saw Grishuk sipping a margherita at a bar, came up behind her, grabbed her hair and smashed her head against the counter.” And although Usova later apologized, Dubova had had enough and expelled Grishuk from her camp for getting involved with Zhulin. While Grishuk headed back to Moscow, Dubova attempted to pair Platov with a young Tatiana Navka, who would’ve been around 17 and representing Belarus following the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Ultimately though, Grishuk returned to former coach Natalia Linichuk and Platov followed, restoring their partnership before the 92-93 season.
The Soviets, now officially representing the newly reformed country of Russia, maintained their absolute stranglehold on the discipline. With Klimova/Ponomarenko retiring to focus on the pro circuit and starting a family as well as the Duchesnays’ retirement, all medalists slid up the rankings, with Usova/Zhulin finally earning their gold medal on the backs of a sultry blues free dance that kept the audience spellbound and where they pretended that they were into each other for 4 minutes.
As if to contrast the gold medalists, Grishuk/Platov skated to a more violent blues, which is admittedly one of my guilty pleasure skates. The free dance told the story of toxic lovers, even incorporating choreography where it looked like Platov was choking Grishuk. Their skating earned them their first medal at Worlds, a silver. And they also started to find that their strength was in the dramatic, even if they don’t go back to it for several years. It is at this time that the media picks up on the former Grishuk/Zhulin affair, but only mentions it during Grishuk/Platov’s programs.
Inter-country politics began early when Alla Shekhovtsova advocated to the judges for Anjelika Krylova and her former partner Vladmir Fedorov, coached by Linichuk, to be sent to Worlds in 93, threatening their judging careers if they put their competitors Elena Kustarova/Oleg Ovsiannikov in front. Naturally. Krylova/Fedorov were sent by one judge’s vote and earned a bronze at Worlds. Krylova was known for her amazing leg line, but this free dance doesn’t really do them justice on that end. After Krylova/Fedorov earned a medal in their debut, American and Canadian media started to become frustrated with lack of results from their ice dancers, insinuating that their lack of results was strictly because of the flag next to their names. In the ‘94 offseason, Krylova/Fedorov would break up and Ovsiannikov would be lured by Linichuk to pair with Krylova.
A little further down the standings, Susanna Rahkamo/Petri Kokko dazzled with a free dance to Valse Triste. The fourth place finishers were crowd favorites known primarily for their slow, methodical, lyrical dances. An innovative couple, their choreography featured harder lifts as well as well placed switching in height. However, their programs were often not as technically difficult as the Russians even as the passion on ice touched the audience.
In the 1993 offseason, a change was made to the rules for professional skaters, stating that those who took money from doing shows could still compete at the amateur ranks. The news was huge, allowing many of the skaters who had been held to professional competitions to compete again for an Olympic title. The biggest name to return to the ice, of course, were Torvill/Dean. Just about 10 years after their win in Sarajevo, Torvill/Dean were determined to earn another Olympic gold. But in the 10-year interval, a lot had changed about ice dance.
After Dubova refused to allow RusFed to see Usova/Zhulin’s programs ahead of the Olympic season, Russia silently started to get behind Grishuk/Platov. On top of that, Usova found out about Zhulin’s affair with a 19-year-old Navka around the Olympics. Navka’s then-partner found out and beat Navka for the affair, before Usova and Zhulin’s mothers started beating each other. So, Maya Usova was distracted to say the very least.
The competition also disallowed classical music for the free dance that year, instead opting to go more modern to appeal more to the audience. Torvill/Dean publicly worried about whether their routines would be suited to more modern music.
With all that happening, the Grishuk/Platov, Usova/Zhulin, Torvill/Dean showdown started in full swing at the European championships, when Usova/Zhulin won the compulsories, Torvill/Dean won the OD, and Grishuk/Platov won the free dance. It was the closest ice dance competition in history at that point and left many wondering who would ultimately take home the Olympic gold, even as Torvill/Dean came home with the European title.
The event lived up to the hype. The first compulsory, the Starlight Waltz, was won by Usova/Zhulin before Grishuk/Platov won the blues compulsory (which is absolutely gorgeous by the way, please watch it) and began to build their reputation as the best compulsory skaters of their generation. Torvill/Dean, unfortunately, looked a bit like their age in the compulsories that Olympics, coming up third in both. However, their rhumba OD was sensational and encapsulated the best of them, including their obvious chemistry on the ice. The original dance placed first in the segment, with Usova/Zhulin in second and Grishuk/Platov in third. The final placements would come down to the free dance.
Torvill/Dean would perform a free dance to “Let’s Face the Music,” which read a bit like a greatest hits free dance, incorporating choreography from some of their more famous programs. While the program did feature closed holds when skating, there was also a ton of lifts and tricks incorporated into the choreography, which seemed controversial among the judges. Usova/Zhulin competed with a free dance based on circus acts. A more humorous routine than their past entries, the free incorporated technical difficulty effectively but was a tad bland, which is truly a feat given what the program was supposed to be emulating. Ultimately, it came up short in their final Olympic competition.
Grishuk/Platov carried away the gold with a controversial free dance to “Rock Around the Clock” (also, side note, the spelling of Grishuk’s name as Grichtchuk in the video I’m looking at is just so obscene it needs to be mentioned). What was the controversial part of this free dance you ask? According to the rules of the time, all dance couples needed to be in hold for a certain amount of time during the free dance. Many media outlets and Torvill/Dean themselves felt that Grishuk/Platov did not meet the required amount of time in hold, to the point where Torvill is attributed to saying that “if the judges wanted a show program, we could’ve given them a show program.” The judges, however, loved the free dance, even giving the team four 5.9s in technical merit and a 6.0 in artistic impression. And so the team that nearly split just two years prior were walking home from Lillehammer with gold medals in their hands. And Linichuk finally earned a second gold medal, this time as a coach.
At Worlds that year, Rahkamo/Kokko earned a long-awaited bronze after 8 senior seasons at Worlds. A French couple, Sophia Moniotte/Pascal Lavanchy earned the silver. And so ended an overwhelming era of ice dance. But as skaters like Shae-Lynn Bourne/Victor Kraatz, Tatiana Navka, Margarita Drobiazko/Povilas Vanagas, and Elizabeth Punsalan/Jerod Swallow waited in the wings while Canadian and American media lamented the lack of variety at the top, only 1 thing could be stated for certain: the chaos that is ice dance was sure to continue far past 1994.

I am in my first proper relationship of nearly 7 months so far. he is the first man I’ve come across who truly treats me exactly how I want to be treated without me asking and begging, he does everything he’s supposed to do. He is literally everything I have asked and prayed for and I finally found him. He is literally the boy version of me, our similarities are uncanny I can’t even explain it. I can’t go a single day without talking to him even if it’s one of our boring days, I truly try my best, especially being mid-long distance. The more I talk to him the more I fall for him, and it is a really healthy relationship, we communicate and more. Since we met our energies and vibes have matched it,s really like I am talking to myself. He openly shows how much he cares for me and really likes me as do I. It’s so rare to find a man like him and it’s something I cannot let go of. No words can ever describe how I love him, he gave me back my light and confidence, and for that too I will always love him, and we’ve been making this relationship work as best as we can, we’ve met once and soon to meet again in a few days, which will be our second time and we’ve already been through a lot which continues to make us stronger day by day. To add onto this, I have really strict parents, I am willing to risk it all for him so that we can meet because I know it’s worth it. He’s my first everything and I have no regrets, all of it is worth it.
However, since this relationship started I have had points where I will just wake up and suddenly not feel anything, everything just goes so numb. I begin to doubt this relationship and start to overthink and question everything, I look at every flaw thinking this won't work. This happened 2 months ago and lasted for a day or more but this time I've felt this for the last 2/3 weeks. As well as this has been something that has occurred in past talking stages. This doesn't feel very fair towards him as he is always so supportive of me and everything, he tells me he understands my problems when I tell him and encourages me to open up.
I don't really know why I feel this way or why I get like this, there isn't really any moment in my life where it made me be like this, I don't like how it feels and I wish I don't have to go through this. I'm just very confused.

My preteen child just finished the 1st year in home schooling. I'm the 1sr year there was very little talk of God in science but now I see it expanding, which I find sad and infuriating.
Now, she is going through a video series on the "debate" between "creationism" and evolution. This is a deal breaker for me but my spouse is the one who is teaching. My child is a little against all the God talk in science, but is impressionable and tends to side with the teacher parent. So I'm the odd one here.
Any suggestions on videos or sources I can show them to counter this?

I was raised in Hawaii from a young age, so I tell people I’m from Hawaii (because I am). However, I’m blonde with blue eyes and fair skin. All growing up I was picked on for being haole, spit on, abused and sworn at etc almost every day at school and elsewhere. Eventually I moved to the mainland.
However, after moving to the mainland it was a shock. I had never seen so many white people in one place, and they seemed ok with being haole. They didn’t hate themselves or think about their skin color constantly (as far as I know). I don’t feel like I fit in where I’m at on the mainland, but I also don’t know if I want to go back to Hawaii after the trauma it caused. I miss Hawaii so much and it’s so much of who I am, it’s a huge part of me and its all I knew. I feel so homesick for Hawaii and I find myself longing to be there again.
It’s funny because people think my wife is hawaiian all the time (she’s Mexican) but they’re shocked when they find out I’m from Hawaii.
How do you resolve this in your mind, when your culture is at odds with your race?

I feel like I'm the odd one out, from what I'm reading online. Everyone gets out of surgery with minimal pain for a day or two, and is back at it ASAP. I never had gas pain and had a fairly ok first day, but since then (it's day 5 today), one of my incision sites feels like a rusty spike is trying to kill me from the inside out. I can't do anything without pain. I'm out of pain pills, and the doctor said I just need to take Tylenol and try a heating pad, neither of which are helping. I've resorted to just sitting in my anti-gravity lawn chair and not moving. Why am I in pain and no one else is?!

Louisiana recently changed the law so that adoptees can have access to their original birth certificate. I am helping my (adoptive) brother look for his biological parents, specifically mother. We obtained his original birth certificate, so we have a name and know how old she was when he was born, as well as where she was born. Her name is fairly common. But even so, the records I have found are mostly easily eliminated as potentials. He isn't sure what he will do with the information once he has it, but he is curious to know more.
Any advice? I don't mind paying for reliable, inclusive databases, but so far, I can't determine which are worth the investment, or if there is another route to try.
​
Thank you.

Sooooo I've always felt some kind of way about it but it wasnt something that kept me up at night.. I've gotten through all my trauma but now that I'm a young adult who wants to be more sexually involved past abuse is surfacing. I can't explain everything as I only remember small portions of my childhood but I'll do my best.
Basically the earliest I remember is my neighbor who was a girl and slightly older than me was the one who introduced me to sex. Basically both our parents were shit and never around which is how this happened in the first place... but to keep it short and somewhat PG she made me perform sexual acts on her. One day my brother walked in on us and told my mom. Well later that day she beat me with a belt for it and that was that.
Skip to some random time later that I don't remember... but the sexual acts had continued with the neighbor and she had me watch porn and draw out what I saw because she wanted me to give my drawings to her. My mom found the drawings and again I got beat for it... although this time she asked me where I got the idea from and I told her who. She believed the answer, that it was my neighbor, but she preferred a different one. So she beat me again until I gave her a different name. This went on and off idk how many times but basically she beat me multiple times in a row until I told her my grandma's name (her mother) because she hated her and always wanted a reason to start stuff.
That's the main memory... but following the years after that my mother continued to make me sleep in the same bed as her despite us having a 4bedroom house I never had my own. She would sleep next to me naked in "our" queen sized bed... not very big obviously..and walk around the house naked.
I was going though puberty and started growing public hair. I would get ingrown often and she never taught me how to fit it myself... she enjoyed making me pull my pants down so she could pluck the hairs herself. Eventually I stopped telling her I was getting them and so she resorted to taking my pants off and doing this and lord knows what else while I was sleep. I never caught her doing it but she admitted this to me.
Skip to teenage years when I started having a highschool boyfriend she started talking about how I needed to date "a strong man who could control me" and that if I decided to have sex I would need to get her approval on the person first. She said that she wanted to get a lock and key jewelry set so that I would have the lock and she could give the key portion to the person I'll have sex with. Mind you were not religious at all... never have been. She was just super controlling over me and obsessed with me having sex. When I broke up with my boyfriend her response was literally "what happened? Did he rape you?" Also because we were dumb kids, my friends would sometimes send me dumb sexually themed memes and I would get yelled at for having them on my phone. It was totally uncalled for because even now I still see memes like that and they're not serious at all. If I had a kid who saw them I would just be like "bruh really" not yell at them.
There was also a few times where she would kiss my neck, and she would often grab my butt and breast. I was very verbal about my discomfort but she didn't care. She would literally say "you came from me so this(body part)is mine" or "incest is best" while stroking my arm.
I did have more to say but now my brain is saying that's enough for today cuz I can't remember anything else even though I know there's more😭 I lowkey feel like my mom was a pedophile but idk like I'm at a stage where I know what happened to me and I realize the effects... but my brain still has no feeling towards it. For some reason I also get this feeling that something worse happened to me but I just don't remember what happened? Idk if that makes sense. Because I have this fear of men overall, but especially a specific race of men that is totally uncalled for due to having no bad experiences with them that I can recall. Ya know? It's just this odd gut feeling that I get but can't explain.
But basically to summarize... now that I'm older I have had sex but each time I dissociated send froze so don't even know what really happened. I hate being touched or kissed, I don't want to hear about sex and even watching people kiss in movies gives me anxiety so I turn it off. I've tried experimenting with myself sexually to try to rewire my brain, but everything just ends up painful from myself tensing up so much.
So yeahhhhh that's it for now.

Hey Reddit, I’m coming here to seek some advice on my personal finances.
For some context, I (29F, not married no children) come from Europe and moved to NYC 1 year ago. I make a great salary here ($8200 net per month), despite that I am really bad with budgeting and have no emergency savings and only debt. I didn’t open a 401k either. One good thing is that I don’t have a high credit limit (only $400) and spend all on debit.
To be fair - there are some things in my situation that slightly hinder my ability to save:
1- in Europe, I own an apartment and have a mortgage which costs me $1500 per month. I spent all my savings 1 year ago for the down payment. My parents are currently living in this apartment. The deal was for them to pay me $1100 rent (that’s the market value) but they have no income currently so have been living for free over the past few months.
2- I have some debt that I incurred during Covid, I took out the loan to also help my parents. The debt repayment is 230$ per month which is reasonable.
3- in addition to giving my parents free rent, they ask me for $600 additional per month to help cover living expenses. my sister who lives in London and makes a good salary also gives them money.
Current I live with a roommate and pay $1850 rent in Brooklyn and have around $250 bills (internet, electricity, phone etc).
Basically my fixed costs amount to more than half my salary (around $4400).
That theoretically leaves me plenty to spend and save. Last month I prepared a budget that should allow me to fully enjoy the NYC lifestyle and travel:

• $1000 food and drinks
• $700 travel ($8400 yearly - please note that as my friends, family and long term boyfriend live in Europe, I travel every 2/3 months to see them which is expensive. This also includes budget for occasional weekends and one 2 week vacation per year).
• $250 groceries (I shop at Food bazaar, never go to Whole Foods or places like that)
• $150 transportation
• $100 shopping
• $350 gym membership - I KNOW I’ll get hate on this, this was a mistake. I’m committed on 12 months and regret having this, I’m ending it in September
• $50 subscriptions (Hulu Netflix etc) Total variable costs = $2200

If my math is right, this should leave me $1200 per month. Once I get rid of my expensive gym membership that should increase to $1550. Also, I want to start contributing to my 401k but I want to prioritize emergency savings first.
One upside is that my parents should start getting income in 2/3 months. They’re starting a business which needs time to get up and running so hopefully they will be able to live without my help and pay me rent again, which could add $1000 to $1600 to my savings amount. but i have no certainty about this.
Despite this I stress about money all the time. I'm scared that I’ll have to help my parents all my life and that all my savings will go to them. At the same time, to be honest I don’t want to sacrifice too much my lifestyle to save more. I'm making a good salary, work hard and feel like i "deserve" to enjoy these things. Like why should i stay home all the time, not go out with my friends, not travel to Europe spend time with my boyfriend…
also, i'm stuck in a way that i cannot financially go back to europe right now. my salary would be halved and theres no way i could help my parents + pay my mortgage + save with 4000 euros. im on a work visa here so am not legally allowed to have more than 1 job nor change jobs. there will come a day that i'll have to leave, because my work visa will expire and i will probably want to settle with my boyfriend in Europe.
i'm ready to hear everyone's thoughts and opinions on this situation! Any advice on the way I manage things is appreciated. also if there are people here that have to help their parents too, how do you deal with this?
Disclaimer: I apologize in advance for talking about my “rich girl problems” and hope I don’t offend anyone. I know that hearing someone have a mortgage, no credit card debt and a good salary complain about helping her parents and not saving much is not at all relatable. I’m really sorry but I just need to vent and hope I’ll get some realistic feedback

Heads up! This story is both unpolished and unfinished, and posted here only for the sake of not letting my work go entirely to waste. If you want to continue the story yourself, feel free to do so.
Credit for The Nature of Predators goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: September, 2136)
At first, we assumed it to be an Arxur weapon, but we had plenty of time to get a more detailed look at the object intersecting our FTL trajectory. A mass of energy, far more than a star could emit, yet giving off no light. Gravitational pull was intense, but completely wrong for a black hole. Maybe the remains of a massive warp core accident? Whatever it was, it was directly in our path.
We had ample time before our collision, and nothing we could do. Our course was set, and escape vessels couldn’t be launched during an FTL jump. All that was left was to wait, and pray for a mercifully quick death that we all knew was unlikely. We built our starships to withstand direct assault from Arxur warships. Our deaths would be both inevitable and slow.
I was away from the refugee’s quarters, on the bridge. I couldn’t bear to watch pups cry in terror, as their parents tried hopelessly to ease their fear. The bridge was only marginally better. Some of the crew were facing their imminent death with stoicism. Many were praying. Many were crying. I don’t remember what I was doing when it hit, but I was probably crying too.
Then… then…
Pain, agonizing and blinding pain. No screaming. No noise at all. Silence, darkness, death.
Movement. But I couldn’t possibly move myself. Was I carried?
​
My first coherent memories started taking shape next to a fire. I couldn’t see, but the warmth and crackling were unmistakable. I tried to move, only to find myself unmoving. Was I in the wreckage of the ship? I felt no pain. Was I already dead?
“Hey, look who’s finally back in the land of the living. Can you hear me?”
A human. The species that started this whole mess. That attacked our cradle, let the Arxur find an easy target. That taunted us with their “Evacuation” cattle roundups. The disgusting mockery of a voice washed over me, tainting my very soul.
That fire must be to roast my flesh. Does it want my fear, before it kills me? It won’t get a single goddamn word, not so much as a noise.
“You… damn, he must still be out of it. Maybe another stimpak..?”
Cli-hsssss. A stabbing pain in my arm, followed by… relief? My arm twitched slightly, but I couldn’t manage anything more. A rushing sound filled my ears, overpowering the growl on my left until it bore me away to unconsciousness.
—
I woke up on a bed, staring at what must’ve been the ceiling, though all I could see was vague rust-brown shapes in the distance. My body still refused to move. And yet still, somehow, so little pain. Was my nervous system destroyed?
No. Hunger. Brutal, snarling hunger stabbed through my stomach like a dagger. I made a weak noise, remembered where I was, and rapidly forced silence. If it knows I’m awake, it’ll torture me until it lets me die…
“Oh! You— you’re awake again! Can you hear me?”
Don’t make a noise. It might lose interest.
“...No. Dammit. It’s going to starve if it doesn’t fully wake up soon… I can’t afford all these meds for much longer anyway. I’ll just have to… leave this here for it. Maybe it’ll wake again while I’m out.”
And just like that, a rush of movement and it was gone. It worked! I lived… I lived, just so I could starve…
​
By the graces of the protector. Food. I could smell food, just inches to my right. Can I move to pick it up? Can I move my jaw to eat?
Is it a trap? The human must be trying to fatten me up. Or maybe it didn’t leave at all, and is just waiting in the shadows to see if I take the bait. Or… maybe…
Fuck it. I was already good as dead, I could at least die full. I tried moving my arm, but to no avail. My other arm was no better. Maybe I could move my head?
The world shifted around me, a nauseating whirl of muted colors. But that meant my head could move. I could move… the food was still just barely out of reach. I can almost taste it… it’s so close to my nose…
I let out a weak cry of frustration. I couldn’t help myself. Did the human intend for this torture? The frustration became rage, filling my body like a white-hot star until I—
Trembling, my claw grasped the food. Rage and hunger animated my arm, pushing it forward. Whatever this was, it was soft. It smelled heavenly. I brought it up to my face. My vision was just recovered enough to make out its form; a strayu-like pillow drizzled with a sweet glaze. I tore into it like an animal, barely even tasting. I must not have eaten in days.
Gone in seconds, and the hunger was barely sated. But it was enough energy to force movement with. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to a sitting position. The world threatened to shift away from under me, but I held, trying to get my bearings.
I’m in… some sort of shack. Bare, rusted sheet metal on the walls; clearly an improvised structure. Other than that oddity, the room was surprisingly normal. No blood dripping from cages, no hunting trophies on the walls. A torn up carpet, a beaten-up table and chair, some cabinets, all illuminated by soft rays of light pouring in from a window over the table. And right next to my little mattress… is that more food? Some sort of orange vegetable. Like the sweet strayu, I ate without even tasting.
Much better. I was still starving, but only metaphorically. I could even move my other arm, though my legs were entirely numb and refused to cooperate no matter how much I pushed them. Could I escape by dragging my body with my arms?
No. I was still too weak. I had to count on the human fattening me up a bit more before I could make a break for it.
​
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Just a hair to the right… and… Now. The interloper, a feral dog that had wandered onto the property, dropped without a sound.
I couldn’t afford to attract any attention, so I’d hastily slapped together a silencer for my pipe revolver. An old oil filter, just small enough to not obstruct the scope I’d hastily tied to the top. The gun looked ridiculous, but it got the job done silently. If I attracted any visitors, my alien guest was as good as dead. Nearly a week after finding it, and it still wasn’t waking up consistently.
Now’s not the time for thought. Focus. Now.
The second dog also dropped. The alpha of the pack still hadn’t noticed anything, a miracle. I lined up one last shot… pulled the trigger, and finally let myself breath. That was way too close. Every day without the fence finished was another day of silent stress.
Putting up a fence was easy enough, but putting up a fence QUIETLY was nightmarishly slow work, constantly punctuated by hiding from any would-be visitors. But these dogs had wandered onto the property without even seeing me. Could they smell the alien? I knew Dogmeat could track injuries from a far greater distance…
Fence should've been up yesterday. Back to work.
I’m running out of barbed wire. And screws. And boards. Can I afford another expedition? What if Dogmeat can’t defend him? Not a chance in hell I’m risking any other group learning about this… although Mama Murphy probably knows anyway, doesn’t she. Maybe the Minutemen can—
No. I can’t risk it. I’ll have to improvise. Maybe I can set up a Tesla arc as defense and leave to raid Sunshine Tidings. Rusted metal sheets don’t make for the best walls, but better than nothing.
The sun was still high, so I had some time if I hurried. As I began gathering supplies, a thought crossed my mind. A Tesla arc was better than nothing, and Dogmeat was formidable enough, but… surely if the alien was in serious danger, it could use some self defense. Those spikes weren’t gonna cut it. Maybe that bastard Kellogg’s old .44 would finally get some use?
I grabbed the .44 revolver, a spare arc trap I’d salvaged from Fort Hagan, and some tools. It would have to do. There was already power hooked up to the shack for heating, so wiring the—
The food’s gone.
Dogmeat didn’t eat carrots, so I knew there was only one culprit. The alien must’ve woken up while I was working. It was back asleep now, but at least it got something down. It wouldn’t starve. Thank god.
…right. If it can wake up, this trap is probably more dangerous to it than any invader. I walked back over to the shed, stowed the Tesla arc and tools, and grabbed a handful of vegetables and a water canteen. If it could stomach food, it needed to start putting on weight now to make up for lost time. This would be a start, at least.
I set the food and water on the table (taking care not to break the digital chimera I’d already laid there), and the gun beside the bed. I knew it could reach to there, without a doubt. Maybe toss in a handful more bullets, too; it’s not like I’d ever be able to make myself use the damn thing. I gave one last glance at the alien curled up on a bare mattress before closing the door and setting out.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Help me. Kay-ut. Ki-ra. Protector. Anyone. It’s right there.
When I heard the human coming, I faked sleep hoping it wouldn’t check. As seconds passed, that hope grew thinner and thinner. Clearly, it could see the food was gone. Not that it needed to figure anything out; it could probably see through my deception just looking at me. Ki-yu, trickster; please, let this work. Let me live a moment longer. Noises all around me. Was it laying out torturous weaponry? Was it getting ready to gut me?
Protector. Please. I don’t want to die.
The noise around me stopped. Had the gods heard my prayers? I dared not check; if the human was still there, and I so much as opened an eye, I was dead. But death failed to claim me, and more noises failed to appear, until I finally worked up the courage to take advantage of my blessing and open my eyes.
The human was gone. I was alive. One more look around the room, to make sure it hadn’t—
A gun. A human weapon, close enough to grab. And ammo…
I knew humans were masters at trapping, at deceiving; such was their nature. I stared at the gun, trying to figure out what the trap was.
But I was tired, and hungry, and every sense told me that this wasn’t a trap, but a loaded gun. An answer to my prayers for safety. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I picked it up. It felt solid and weighty in my hands, lending some sense of security to the otherwise hopeless situation. Emboldened, I tried to rise to my feet again.
If I grabbed some of the furniture and stood on my good leg, I could just about stay upright without pain. That would have to do for now. Maybe I could use something in this room as a crutch. A leg of the table might do nicely, if I could—
Food. More food, all over the table. A sprawl of alien vegetables, including that orange one I had earlier. A metal jug, probably filled with water. And… is that a translator?
Curiosity overpowered both my hunger and my fear. On closer inspection, it was indeed a translator, one of the older dedicated units. Wired into… some sort of metal armband with a green flickering screen. The craftsmanship was shoddy; some parts were literally held together with insulated tape. Still, it appeared to be powered on and functional.
If I wasn’t in so much danger… I’d love to get a better look at what the human did with this thing. To wire Federation tech directly into one of their devices, and make it work…
My attention drifted back to the bounty laid out on the table before me. It could all be poisoned, but I’d already eaten the human’s food; what harm could it do to be full?
—
Sweeter than the orange one, but not as filling. Kind of mushy. Now no longer starving, I began to savor my meal slightly more. The green fruit was next, the one nearly the size of my skull. Upon breaking open the shell, it turned out to be pinkish red inside, and so juicy that I didn’t even need the water in the jug.
Bitter, but strangely satisfying. Next was a massive purple flower, which I could only guess was supposed to be food as well. The taste was unpleasant, but it felt bizarrely good to eat. Maybe a medicinal herb?
Why would the human give me a medicinal herb?
I’d been circling around the question for some time now. Why the food? Why the gun? Why the lack of gutting? Even if those supposed “empathy tests” weren’t faked, our species were at war! Did it not know?
Well-fed prey made for better-tasting prey, but a gun did not feed. A translator did not feed. Did it really want to talk to me? I weighed my options.
Option 1: Run. Impossible to do in my current state. Even with a large head start, even with uninjured legs, humans were nothing if not persistent; my odds were not all too favorable. And where would I go, anyway?
Option 2: Hide. Impossible to do in any state. Humans were perceptive and cunning. Nothing short of divine protection would hide me. And again, where would I go afterwards?
Option 3: Fight. I had a loaded gun, but for all I knew it was only there to lure me into a false sense of security. And besides, did I really expect to outfight a predator?
Option 4: Talk. It wasn’t likely, but maybe the human would have some sympathy (or at least fake some sympathy to keep up appearances). I was already injured, and it hadn’t torn me apart already; it clearly had something else in mind. Maybe the translator was involved in its “Something else”?
I didn’t… like that last option, but it seemed a hair better than shooting on sight when the human came back. Maybe I was forsaking the protection of the gods, forsaking my fellow Gojid. But none of the options were without risk, and I had to try something bold if I wanted to survive.
A noise from outside roused me from my thoughts. It’s coming. Time to make your choice.
​
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Halfway through the outbound trip, I realized I’d forgotten my pip-boy at camp. I’d taken both off, while working on wiring in that translator to the spare one from Vault 81. Having no way of assessing potential injuries simply would not do.
Halfway through the return trip, I realized I’d brought Dogmeat with me instead of leaving him to guard. I managed to make myself move a little faster. That .44 was no guarantee of safety, not if the alien simply couldn’t get up.
Once back, I could at least be sure that nothing happened. No blue blood seeping through the shack’s foundation. I grabbed the pip-boy, ordered Dogmeat to patrol, and prepared to leave before the daylight faded.
That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Leaving without even checking on your guest?
I was leaving so I could build a fence for its protection, but… a quick check couldn’t hurt. Just to make sure nothing happened, right? Yeah. Sure. I had the time. Though maybe barging straight in wasn’t the brightest idea, not when I had just given it a revolver.
I knocked twice, and tried to lower my voice to a more soothing register. I had no idea if my hacked-together translator abomination would work, so tone was key. Before I could even speak, I heard a wild scrambling from the inside.
“Don’t— please don’t k-kill me, human, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
…I guess I should be glad the translator worked? What the hell was that?
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Is it OK with you if I come inside?”
“I… Y-Yes.”
I gave Dogmeat a strong look to stay back, and cracked open the door. The terrified sniveling over the translator couldn’t have prepared me for what met my gaze.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard a heart-wrenching noise while poking around the edge of the glowing sea; a lone radstag doe, torn literally in half by a deathclaw. The beast was scared off by an approaching Vertibird, leaving the doe to wail helplessly until I put it out of its misery.
I had nothing else I could compare the alien to. It was shaking like an aspen leaf, eyes screwed shut and body curled up against the wall. The gun was still technically in its hand (claw?), but pointed at nothing. Just looking at the thing made me feel helpless.
But I brought it back from the brink of death. Soothing terror would surely be easier than saving its life.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Protector. Please, give me strength. It’s… It’s going to…
No. It just wants to talk. Rania, get a hold of yourself.
I cracked open an eye. Tears largely blinded me from the horrifying details of the predator, but the human still towered over me, casting an engulfing shadow over my weakened form. It was all I could do to not further embarrass myself with incoherent pleading.
It seemed to take notice of my fear, crouching down to roughly eye level.
“You’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you, no matter what. What’s your name?”
“R-Rania.” I forced another eye open. The human had moved itself to a chair. Soft daylight illuminated a pair of forward-facing eyes, but no predatory scowl. It had an expression which could be mistaken for solemn sympathy on another species. But it had no reason not to be sincere. There was no other audience, nor anything I could do to escape. Could it really be concerned?
“Rania. My name is Nate. Can you tell me… what you are?”
“Just Nate? I— I thought humans had two names.”
“Oh, uhh… Nathan Dunne. I just go by Nate.”
I noticed a distinct look of confusion engulf the human’s face. Actually, I started to notice a lot of things. It wasn’t just the building and translator that were so clearly improvised. It— Nate’s armor was clearly not standard-issue anything. Nor the weapon on his side, some sort of pistol made seemingly from scrap.
He didn’t look like a UN soldier, nor a civilian of any type. And… just now… did he ask what I was? How could he not know?
“I’m a… I’m a G—Gojid. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, which even I knew was a human gesture for no. “Not as such. I might need to work out some issues with the translator, though, so don't count on it meaning—”
“The Federation? The cradle? Venlil? Arxur? UN?”
A bizarre shudder passed through Nate. “I know about the UN, though I can’t imagine how they’re relevant now… and no to the rest.”
“I can’t imagine how they’re relevant”!? What the hell could that mean?
“What— what does the UN mean to you?”
Again, that shudder, like a shadow cast over his soul. “They were a global group, trying to keep international peace. When the first Resource wars sparked… they collapsed like a house of cards. 2052. I was 12. After that, it…” he trailed off, before forcing himself to speak. “It all went to hell. As you can see.”
I couldn’t speak for shock. Predators were deceitful by their nature, yet I knew in my heart his words were sincere. It was plain as day, etched across his face. And if so… What the hell? What the hell!? What was any of that?
“As you can see? What do you mean?”
“Can you walk?”
Should I reveal my weakness? I don’t see any way he couldn’t notice my condition by now, so maybe I can get some sympathy for it?
“I… no, I don’t think so…”
“Then I can carry you outside. If you want, I mean. You’ll see what I meant by ‘went to hell’ real quickly.”
He’d have to… oh Protector, if he chose to carry me to slaughter, there’d be nothing I could do. But by this point, my fear was starting to wear thin from weariness. Curiosity was slowly taking the upper hand.
“S-show me.”
And just like that, the world moved out from under me. Instinctively, I grasped the human’s artificial pelt like a pup clinging to its mother. Light flooded my still tearstained eyes. I blinked them clear, and looked out on the world.
​
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Was this Earth? This couldn’t be Earth. Earth was green, wasn’t it?
Yellow foliage, grey trees. A soft blue sky, intermittently broken up by concrete highways that towered towards the clouds. And on the horizon, the mammoth corpse of a city, a metal carcass that dominated the skyline.
No green. No life. Not even wind. The whole scene was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time.
Unable to make sense of the wider world, my attention drifted closer. A ring of ramshackle fencing, a larger building that I might mistake for a house. An ancient hand-worked water pump. A plot of vegetables. A beast with glistening fangs, bounding towards—
“Dogmeat, no. Stay.”
Somehow, impossibly, the beast heeded the command, slowing down enough for me to get a better look at my imminent demise. Long brown fur with black markings, a swishing tail, a red fabric tied around its neck. Forward-facing eyes gleaming with hideous intelligence. It sat down, tilting its head and letting out a shrill whine.
“You still haven’t met Dogmeat yet, have you— Rania? Rania!”
I couldn’t breathe. It was looking straight at me. I thought the human was terrifying, but this thing made it look harmless. Did Nate not realize the danger he was in?
“N— No! Please… don’t let it…”
“It’s not going to hurt you either. You’re OK. Breathe.” Nate turned slightly, shielding the beast from view. “Here. We can go back inside if he scares you too much.” I managed to choke out an affirmation, and felt darkness overtake me as we rushed back into the relative safety of the shack. The door clicked shut, sealing the beast outside.
“Rania, talk to me. Can you breathe?”
“Please… please don’t feed me to it…”
Nate’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to cover his mouth. I didn’t know much human body language (aside from the vicious snarl they called a smile), but shock was a constant across almost every species. His eyes cast around the room wildly, his breathing becoming erratic before he managed to regain control.
“Rania, I— I’m not going to feed you to him. You— listen, I won’t even let him in. It’s safe here.” He clearly had something else to say, and silently struggled with the words for a moment before finding his phrasing. “Can you tell me why you’re so scared? What happened before I found you?”
The words took several moments to consciously register, but their effect was immediate. If Nate was trying to startle me out of my fear, he couldn’t have done a better job. When I spoke, it was with startling clarity as fear was replaced by near-indignant confusion.
“How could I not be scared? You’re predators. Even if… even if you really don’t want to kill me, seeing injured prey must be a powerful temptation to your instincts, no? Not to mention the invasion of the cradle; even if you do have empathy, why try to save an enemy species?”
A few moments of stillness, and then I mimicked his previous motion of shock as I realized what I’d done. If he somehow didn’t know the situation with the Gojid before, he did now. Even prey empathy didn’t extend to their sworn enemies. My stupid thoughtless rambling meant I was good as dead.
“Rania.” Nate’s words were slow, soft, and measured. “I don’t know where you come from or what the situation is out… up there. But I can promise you this.” He tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my terrified reverie and forcing me to pay full attention. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’ll keep it safe here, as long as it takes for you to heal. You can hold me to that.”
“Safe… even safe from that monster..?”
Nate looked deeply hurt, but quickly covered it up with his previous expression of concern. “Yes. I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
He stole a glance out the window, before turning back to me. “Listen. I need to get some supplies for the fence while there’s still light. I’ll take Dogmeat with me. Do you know how to use this?” He gestured towards the gun, still sitting where I’d carelessly let it slip from my claws minutes earlier.
“Y-yes.”
Apparently seeing straight through my lie, he bent down to show me. “Here, you just need to pull back the hammer. Finger over the trigger, and line up these sights on your target. Only pull the trigger when you know you have your shot.”
Nate stood up, putting one hand on the door before remembering something. “If you start hurting, you can use this.” He set a syringe down on the table. “Just stab wherever it hurts. The pack’ll do the rest for you. I’ll be back at sundown.”
And just like that, he was gone.
​
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
For a while, I just sat there, gun in hand and mind slowly dissolving from all the new information weighing it down. But boredom is a powerful thing, and even injured as I was, restlessness started to take hold.
With the beast gone, and gun in hand, I started convincing myself that it might be a good idea to get another look at the land. I needed to know what I had to work with in case… something happened. And I swore I saw a vegetable garden earlier. Curiosity was getting the better of me.
I tested my legs again. One was sore, but shockingly capable. The other was still burning when I applied pressure, and swaddled in bandages. I didn’t particularly feel like knowing what was under there. One leg would have to do. I didn’t need my legs to shoot, after all.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I cracked the door open. Nobody was out there. I took one shaky step. Then another. Inch by silent sore inch, I made my way over to the “house”.
Like everything out here, it was a rough-hewn heap of rusted metal and thick planks of wood. On closer inspection, however, some care had clearly been put into making it insulated. The windows even had glass (albeit covered in dust), rather than the screen mesh in my shack. This must be where the human lives.
What could Nate be hiding from me?
My curiosity burned brighter than the pain in my leg as I ambled towards the door. Unlocked. I peeked inside.
Thick layers of carpet. A fireplace on the wall, a couple paintings. A mattress much better-maintained than mine, pushed up under one of the windows.
No blood dripping from cages. No hunting trophies on the walls. No indication that this was the lair of a predator. If not for the construction materials, it could be mistaken for a house back on the cradle. It even has refrigeration and lights, without a functional power grid. I guess that predatory cunning comes in handy.
I already knew what the fridge must be filled with. I made the decision not to look. It’d be better if Nate didn’t know I was here, and that’d be pretty hard to hide with vomit all over his carpet. I couldn’t stop myself from looking in one of the cabinets, though. The thing was stuffed with cans of food, nearly full to bursting. Some were clearly homemade, some looked like they’d been excavated from the dirt. Maybe they had been.
My good leg was starting to ache, cutting my exploration short. With no small hesitation, I forced myself back outside, back to the shack where I could rest up a bit.
—
I was only steps away from the door when a horrifying sight stopped me in my tracks. Dead animals, three of them. Sickly looking things, but recognizably the same species as that ‘Dogmeat’. I couldn’t look away. Was Nate hunting before I woke up? I stepped closer, morbid curiosity dowsing my pain. I don’t see any bite marks. And… predators don’t eat other predators.
​
Did he kill them to protect me?
Humans were apex predators on their planet. It couldn’t have been self-defense. Nor could it have been hunger, if he’d just left them to rot. So… what other reasons would he have to fight?
I looked closer, my eyes meeting a series of glassy stares. Two of them looked literally skin and bones, but the third looked a lot like Dogmeat. Mouth closed, eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. I almost felt bad for it.
“I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
Did Nate feel any conflict, having to shoot them on my behalf? Was he going to shoot Dogmeat too, just to ease my fears? He clearly cared about the beast, but if he thought “keeping me safe” meant…
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No. I wouldn’t let it come to that. I had to overcome my fear. If I wanted to survive, I needed to be stronger.
Reaching out to the body, arm trembling, I ran a claw down its side. It was soft… still warm, too. The thought that this predator had been alive so recently, only to be put down for my safety, managed to elicit a twinge of sorrow. That feeling, hold on to that. Force it through your fear.
My movements got bolder, even exploring the rows of sharp teeth hidden by a clenched jaw. And the soft fur on its underbelly… its long tail, which sat limp and unmoving on the dust. I could feel my fear begin to fade more and more with every second I sat next to the body of this predator.
Eventually, I forced myself to rise. As I walked back to my bed, I stole one last glance backwards. Instead of horrifying predators, all I saw was a family of three. That they had to die so I could live… the thought filled me with a strange sense of shame.
I couldn’t stand there forever. My poor legs wouldn’t allow it. Back to the bed, step by shaky step.
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Hauling sheet metal was no easy task, even with the help of a dog. It was dark by the time I got home; I’d missed my appointment with the sunset by nearly half an hour.
Supplies stowed away, armor shed, weapons holstered. I rummaged around the fridge for a radstag fry I’d prepared a couple days ago. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I still needed to check in with Rania. Dogmeat hovered around my ankles, performing his best puppy impression.
These might be the last meals you get to eat with him. I gave a few scraps for his unconvincing performance.
I knew the minutemen would take good care of him, and Valentine could make good use of his nose. But saying goodbye would be a challenge. He’d had my back practically since I escaped Vault 111, and casting him aside felt like nothing short of a betrayal.
The radstag felt like sawdust in my mouth. I tossed the rest of it to Dogmeat, who looked up quizzically rather than digging in. I knew he was wondering why I was being so generous all of a sudden, but I wasn’t ready to break the news to him yet.
—
“Is it OK with you if I come in?”
The voice responding sounded completely different. Still recognizably Rania, but without the terrified quivering I’d expected. “Yes. We need to talk.”
I slipped inside, taking care not to let out too much heat. The figure facing me, while again still undoubtedly Rania, was otherwise unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, unshaking, looking directly at me. A far cry from the poor creature I’d talked to when I left. He (he? I decided to assume it was male, given the voice from the translator) turned his head slightly to the side, leaving one eye to meet both of mine in what I assumed was an intense stare for a person with side-facing eyes.
“Nate.” Rania’s voice was thick with determination. “I’ve decided… I want to get used to Dogmeat. If he’s really as friendly as you say, you shouldn’t have to get rid of him just because of my fear.”
It was all I could do to suppress a full-bodied sigh of relief. If he’s on the fence on this decision, showing my joy would force his hand. I have to stay calm. “Can I ask why?”
“I, uh… I found the other predators. The feral ones. The ones you shot.”
Oh.
“And I… I don’t want you to have to do the same for him. It doesn’t…” The quivering returned in shades, but he continued. “Even if you meant ‘find somewhere else for him’ literally, you shouldn’t have to do that for my sake.”
“I…” I buried my face in my hands, trying to beat back tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t imagine having to… thank you. I can still keep him away from you if you’re scared. You shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
Rania shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, I was thinking I should… you know, get used to him, not just tolerate him from a distance. Face my fear head-on. Just… not tonight, OK?”
For all that quivering, he’s a lot braver than I thought he’d be.
“Yeah. We can get something worked out later. Right now, you need to rest. I’m not just talking about tonight; you’re still injured. Best you can do right now is rest and eat. Which reminds me… The vegetables I brought you earlier. How were they? Any you really liked?”
“Oh, uhhh… yeah, the orange one was really nice. And that red mushy one wasn’t so pleasant; I could eat it anyway to get full, but I’d rather not. Why do you have so many vegetables, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t I? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought… predators eat flesh, right? Were you growing them for decoration? I mean… it was nice to see something green and growing out here, but that seems like a lot of effort!”
I couldn’t manage a verbal response to this. All I could give was a baffled stare, which Rania seemed to interpret as a threat.
“I— I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, no, it’s just…” I rubbed my eyes. Hauling sheet metal had sapped all my energy, but I couldn’t just let this slide. “I mean… humans aren’t obligate carnivores. Most predators aren’t; even deathclaws forage for mutfruit when they can. Or does the word ‘predator’ mean something else to you?”
It was Rania’s turn for a blank stare, and I began to wonder if I’d just said something insulting. He looked down, mumbling something the translator couldn’t catch, then turned his attention back. “I think we should talk about this later. I need to rest.”
I knew it was a flimsy excuse (I could practically see his mind overheating as he stared back into the ground), but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I bid my farewell with a solemn nod.
—
The moon cast a picturesque blue light through the windows, giving just enough illumination to fend off sleep. On its own, the meager light couldn’t fight off the exhaustion radiating through my muscles, but Rania’s bizarre outburst was also keeping me up.
Not knowing about the history of our planet was perfectly reasonable, given his alien identity. Being so scared of humans despite apparently knowing about them was strange, but nothing a bit of trauma couldn’t induce. But even schoolchildren knew the basics of the food chain, and I found it hard to believe that a space-faring alien race would be less knowledgeable about ecology than the local population of raiders. Even with no education at all, certain things were obvious by observation.
If nothing else, Rania was right about one thing. We will need to talk about this later.
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[Continued in comments]