Hey everyone, I’m mainly doing this for myself as a journal but whoever wants to join along is more than welcome to me. I’m hoping this becomes a success story and for my quality of life to stop being haunted. YOU DONT HAVE TO READ ALL OF THIS
I’m a 22 year old female in the US. I currently don’t have a job as I have been let go yesterday due to my unsuspecting symptoms and lack of communication. I can’t keep up with the regular 9-5 jobs and it’s turning into a pattern of me burning myself out. I don’t have anybody to rely on other than myself and I can’t get afford health insurance at the moment.
Current Symptoms: - Extreme Fatigue/Exhaustion - SouCurdling/Spicy tummy feeling? - Nausea/Contractions (especially after physical activity and eating or drinking) - Bloating/Gas/Gurgling -Rancid Smelling Poop - Acne - Regurgitating oil/grease - Recurrent yeast - Brain Fog/Confusion - Urinary Incontinence - Body Rashes/Allergic Reactions -Sugar Cravings - Migraines - Cotten Mouth/Dehydration - Malabsorption/Continual Hunger - Thinning Hair - Weight Loss - Weak Pelvic Floor? Tight/Tense Muscles? - Food in Stools (Not often) - Drunkness Feeling After Carbs? - Acid Reflux - Depression/Anxiety - Weak Immune System
Food Sensitivities that have developed: - Dairy -Gluten - Soy - Gastric foods/spices/drinks (including onion and garlic) - Processed Foods - Broths - Sugar (Fruit and All) - Starch - Acid (Fruits/Vinegars) - Medications (NSAIDS/Anti-Acids)
Tried treatments that I can remember: -Xifaxin (2 weeks) - Ortho Molecular Ortho Spore (2-3 months worked wonders but relapsed) -Dietitian: Low Fodmap Diet (3 months didn’t help) - Reuteri - B12, VitD, other vitamin supplements - Physical Therapy - Fluconazole - Boric Acid -Laxatives (basically all) - Collagen Peptides - Plant Based Protein Powder - Yoga
Most of Background: So I have been dealing with different illnesses that is a repeated pattern since I was possibly 12 years old. I would frequently have nasty migraines, stomach bugs, food poisoning, and respiratory infections out of the blue. It gotten to the point of my family always saying “there’s always something wrong with you”, “you’re just exaggerating”.
When it came to 2017, I started gaining rashes as allergic reactions. It couldn’t be classified as hives even though it looked the part because it would sting like a bitch instead of itching. It would run through out my body whenever I ate every so often and that was only on of the reactions as I had a second of my skin swelling as if it was a mosquito bite but worse and when the swelling went down, it would leave scars behind.
I went to an allergist and nothing popped up on the regular tests, but something popped up on the chemical patch test. The name of the chemical was called Balsam of Peru, it’s mainly a preservative that is in your common foods/beverages, cleaning products, and aerosols. I continued to have random allergic reactions here and there as it wasn’t feasible to follow a diet that strict in a household like mine.
Then came the end of 2019, I was having trouble with my stomach and would randomly gag from November til Jan 2020. I would literally start throwing up even if I had nothing in my stomach. I went to doctors but they kept thinking I was pregnant and would say my vitals were fine therefore there’s nothing wrong. One day mid Jan, I had throw up for the last time but there was something different..I couldn’t get up. I lost all strength in my legs and half of my strength in my arms. I went to the hospital and they did X-rays and scans just to say there was nothing wrong and it might be a virus that hit my nervous system. The next day they boot me out with nothing. I had to learn how to walk all over again like a baby until I gained my strength with only the help of my family which took about a month. Throughout that time I was still feeling sick and gagging/throwing up.
This is the point when my mom decides to get a referral to a GI and they look through my records from the hospital to find out I was backed up with waste up to my ribs. They did a horrifying flush on me and prescribed me linzess. It was getting me to poop more frequently but I still was feeling pretty sick often, it was manageable though.
I get to college, it was a shit show, I start to get more symptoms, like brain fog and fatigue. I thought it was all in my head at this point and tried my best in school but had low performance when I was used to easy A’s. I began to have yeast infections every so often. I start getting into vaping, smoking weed, and the occasional drinking. The vaping became chronic and whenever I would drink I would have alcohol poisoning like symptoms that were uncontrollable to the point where a couple of times I ended up in the hospital to get my stomach to stop contracting. I stopped all drinking and started becoming a religious smoker to deal with my symptoms, school, work, and every other stress in my life. All it did was make my health plummet even faster.
I finally got diagnosed with SIBO at the end of 2021 and thought “finally something!”, the GI thought to cure it was to give more laxatives to get my bowels to move more frequently. Instead it would turn me into a balloon that was about to burst but could not push anything out. The GI gave up anf I decided to move on. At this point I had to take a break from school because I was so tired whenever I woke up in the morning that I either slept completely through my alarms or I couldn’t physically get up out of bed. I constantly was having stomach issues. My yeast infections started coming at least 2x a month. I had so bad urinary incontinence that I had to wear diapers. I was dealing with so much stress with family, working, trying to make ends meet, trying different doctors that never helped and telling me different things. I was dealing with a psychologically abusive bf. Nobody believed how bad I felt everyday. How hard it was for me to eat, think, overall function like a human being. My bf seen it everyday but refused to acknowledge that when he says he understood that his actions would always say otherwise. It all mentally broke me and I crashed hard.
This brings me to practically the present. I cut contact with the EX bf and parents. I’m low contact with the rest of my family. I quit vaping for good, but the damage is already done. I am now on Wellbutrin and trying to pick up the pieces that are shattered. It’s been 6 months but my symptoms are worsening instead of getting better. I can’t hold down a 9-5 job, my stomach can’t and won’t tolerate anything. I starve myself most days, drink water and electrolyte drinks whenever my stomach take it.
Everyday I feel weak, exhausted, brain fog so bad that I can’t count to 5, stomach hurt. The last thing that made me question my entire existence, Saturday night I was starving so I made rice thinking it was the safest thing. The next morning I felt so drunk that I couldn’t function, I was so dehydrated and in so much pain I went to urgent care. The doctor looked at me as if I was on drugs, refused iv, and told me my symptoms were caused by trauma, it’s all in my head. She refused a work note as well. I felt a tad bit better after some electrolytes from home and went to sleep for work. I slept through my alarms and woke up 2.5 hrs late (total 14 hrs). I couldn’t move my body, text manager. She called after the shift explaining that she isn’t letting me go because of my illness, bc I failed to tell her about the day prior so she could plan accordingly. She wants me to focus on my health, it would’ve been kind if I wasn’t already drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford rent.
The reason why I wrote everything I could is because 1. I believe a lot of this is relevant to each other regarding SIBO and Candida in some way 2. It will help me for my future
If you made it this far CONGRATS 🎉🎊 🥳 And thank you for the support!

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

Life is driving me Mad. I've never made a reddit post, so please forgive any ignorance. First I will begin by saying, I'm so done.... I'm a mom of three children, 1 (6 yr old boy) and 2 (2 yr old twin girls). I don't even know where to start... I guess I'll start with how my situation is going right now and then work backwards to how it all began... I am currently working as a FT MA and I live with my son and I don't live with my twin girls. How is that possible? You ask. Well, it all began after I had my twins... I am a petite woman at only 4'4" so my twins came out early (NICU Babies). They thrived in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). The twins were in the NICU for 1 month and then finally came home. I was filled with so much joy and happiness. My son would come help me with the bottle and read them books, my life felt complete ❤️ If you know me well, you would know that my life as a child was ust full of bad luck and sadness and pain. I try not to think about it and keep trying to live life. No matter how hard life got I tried to stay optimistic and kept pushing forward... And those few moments of joy and fulfillment almost got me to believe that I finally did it and I was proud of my hard work and success, for those few moments. Sadly those moments did not last and my life got pushed into a whirlwind of pain, depression and loneliness all over again.... And I gained a new fear.... On April 14th... Twin A almost gained her wings that day... And I fell right back into that dark hole I worked so hard to crawl out of... My life at that moment felt like I was trying to control a ship in a really harsh storm, and during that storm I lost my home, I lost a car, someone stole my wallet, Twin B was diagnosed with the same condition as her sister and ended up in the hospital too, we basically lived in the hospital for half a year, hopping from roomate to roomate from Facebook Marketplace until we saved enough money to get our own place again. Me and the Kid's Dad ended up separating, I was paying for a 2Bed 2Bath on my own income and it was a struggle but me and my son managed. I ended up talking to my best friend of 11 yrs (M) and we ended up falling in love. After dating for a while he ended up wanting to help me with finances so we moved in together. And we both work Full time jobs. I thought things would calm down for a while so I can find stability again. And now I can talk about my condition, it's not horrible. I need surgery and if not there's a possibility of me losing mobility in my limbs. I've already been missing days for being sick due to the condition and have been getting paid less. The thing is though, surgery is expensive and I'm already missing days, I get FMLA without benefits and I have to be out of work for a month. I don't even know what to do. My life has to fall back into place like a domino affect. I get healthy again, I do what I need to do to get a big enough place for my children with a stable job. I wish it was that simple.... I need some advice or words of encouragement, I honestly feel like I can't handle this anymore.
Also this kind of felt good to let it out and get this off my chest...

Hi everybody. I’m new here, but I wanted to tell you a story regarding how I left my toxic work environment.
I recently graduated with a PhD in a field that I love. I greatly enjoyed the process (not everyone likes their time in graduate school, but I was an exception because of a tremendous adviser). Upon graduating, due to a slump in the industry, there were not many positions available. So, I interviewed at a small contract research firm (family-owned business with less than 20 employees), and accepted a position there. Even before I took the job, there was something shady about it. As soon as I walked up to introduce myself, one of the managers unenthusiastically introduced themself, and I just felt that this person had a bad attitude in general. This is a family-owned business, so this manager got into an argument with the parents right in front of me, which was something I hadn’t seen before in an interview. After the multi-day interview, they offered me a job, and I accepted because I really wanted a job in my field. The thing is, the organization found me on a recruiting website, which requires them to pay a certain percentage of my salary for finding me. They elected to tell the recruiter that my salary was significantly less than what it was, and slipped me some money under the table in the form of different stipends. Because I was trying to make myself look good in front of my new bosses, I accepted this offer, and tried to justify it because I needed the job. I realize now that this was a mistake.
As I started, I realized that this was going to be a rough environment. There were lots of family working there, which isn’t inherently a bad thing, but there was definitely favoritism shown to said relatives. I was hired to do a specific role, but was not allowed to do the things necessary to make sure the job was done right (i.e. I couldn’t even send an email to a client without checking with the manager, which produced a lot of anxiety because I had to manage a lot of clients and constantly feared retribution from “management”). And then came the butt-chewings. I would get yelled at for the tiniest mistake. There were comments about how “if you do/don’t do such-and-such, I’m gonna be p*ssed” and “you had better do it right the first time, because we cannot afford to do things over again. If things start going badly, we’re gonna get pissy.” So that added to the anxiety and stress, which did not make work fun at all. Add to that the many times where I would do exactly what my manager told me to do, and get disciplined by the owners for not doing it differently.
If things were not done EXACTLY like we were instructed to do them, we would all get ripped. For instance, one of the owners wanted a couple of the employees to get some vehicles cleaned. She said that she wanted everybody to clean a vehicle (despite assigning two employees to lead this task). Well, the owner who said this left later in the day, and the people cleaning the trucks decided that not everybody needed to help because it wouldn’t take long. When the owner found out that not everyone had helped clean the trucks (even though the trucks were spotless), she blew a gasket and was NOT happy. There’s another example for you.
The final straw was when I made a mistake that took 15-20 minutes to fix (due to a miscommunication on my manager’s part), and got cussed at and severely chewed out by one of the owners: “I’m about to blow a gasket. I pay you to get this right. You’re the analyst (real position hidden for anonymity). We cannot afford to be doing sh*t over.” There were more abusive things said, but that’s mainly it. The kicker was that this person said later in the day during a staff meeting that “mistakes are no big deal; we can correct them and it will be fine.” To which I completely disagreed with.
I struggle with anxiety and OCD, so in order to try not to get yelled at, I found myself obsessing over the smallest details. For the past six weeks, I would dry heave and sometimes throw up before work. I found myself in that same time frame down 20 lbs from my start weight due to stress and unclear expectations, and I don’t have that much to lose.
So, ultimately, I made the decision to step down, effective immediately. Since that day, I have been healing mentally, my weight has improved, and I no longer dread the day. I may have to take a job driving for a package delivery service short-term, but there’s no shame in doing what you have to do in order to provide for your family!!
I learned that I will watch out for the warning signs before taking a position, and I will not let myself be yelled at by a boss anymore.

How It Ended
by Ethan O’Driscoll
A thrilling Post apocalypse story
Intro
HRV-1
22 July 2024
Dr Olivia Warren Head of Biotech NARU
This is my latest report on the HRV-1 Virus we were instructed to design by the Russian Government.
The HRV-1 is an incredibly viral and infectious Retrovirus similar to HIV. Changes have been make on a genetic level to provide the request modes of transmission and symptoms.
Those symptoms are:

Profuse bleeding from the mouth, eyes, lips, gums and pores of the skin
Confusion
Coma
Total organ failure leading to death
Reanimation after death and post-mortem hypo-aggression

This all included in a highly infectious package
The infection vectors are:

bodily fluids
contaminated area
ANYTHING that has come in contact with infected bodily fluids
airborne droplets

This is by far the most dangerous diseases we’ve ever designed. I pray to god the Russians only want it as a means of deterrent because if they use it I have no doubt it will end the world. The first sample should be ready to ship next week.
Chapter 1
The Outbreak
1 January 2025
Dr Olivia Warren Head of Biotech NARU
I can’t believe the bastards used it. The first cases came in from Kiev in December from there it spread like a wild fire through Europe the death toll now sits at 65 millions. The hordes rampage through city after city by the millions. There is no way to stop this. What have I done.
NATO forces have established a quarantine of Europe but I can’t help but feel like its too little too late. My estimate is that all infected nations in Europe will be consumed within the next month or two. The Corporation has started the construction of a company safe haven for us higher ups. All we can do is hope the construction is complete before this thing breaks quarantine.
15 February 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
The world is ending. Europe is gone. The quarantine is broken. We’ve got cases in Asia, South America, Here at home in the US, Australia and Africa nowhere is safe. I did this.
Infection number right now:

Africa 100 Million
Europe 890 Million
Asia 250 Million
North America 250 Thousand
South America 120 Million
Australia 24 Million

There is no hope
The safe zone is complete at least we are planning on moving all operations and personal within the week. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself. Dixie is my only saving grace and at least she’ll be safe. I pray for the soul of all those my creation has killed.
20 March 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
Dixie is at the Safe zone.
I can’t live with myself any more. 4 billion people dead
Chapter 2
A New World
My name is Dixie Warren. Daughter of Dr Olivia Warren. Not that I’ve seen her in 15 years. I remember like it was yesterday. She told me to get on that NARU helicopter that she’d meet me at the safe zone. Those were the last words she ever said to me. I was 8 when the world ended.
Its been 15 years since the Outbreak. There isn’t really anything left of the old world. NARU still exists and turns out they created the virus and my mom was the head of the department that did it. They sold it to the Russians hoping they wouldn’t use it but they did.
It was specifically designed to spread and destroy as fast as possible and it did. I left the safe zone 2 years ago after I learned this information. Now I just spend my time wandering from town to town. My training on the NARU security team helps. At least I know all the best places to shoot a Freaker. That's what we call the infected and for good reason. Most of the time you’ll find them wondering around in groups of 5 to 10 if the group gets too big they turn on each other and form a pile of bodies devouring each other. They moan and scream to communicate and once they see you they will hunt you till you kill every last on of them or you get far enough away. They can run and are abnormally strong if there bodies aren’t damaged they’re a bitch to kill but I’m pretty good at it.
Right now I’m outside Richmond I’ve been stuck here for a week waiting for a large horde to move through. I’m hoping to hunt some of the stragglers and re-up on some supplies. A big horde like this usually leave a few hundred behind. My new AR has been waiting for some fun, I’ve got a new red dot and laser so I should be able to pop headshot after headshot but for now I should go find something to eat.
I’ve made it to a small department store outside the town. It looks like the horde is almost gone. Tons of freaks roaming around though. I can hear a few in the store. I’m going to try getting in through the back and take them out.
Made it back home and wow that store was a gold mine. I got food, water, bullets and even some whiskey. I’m going to enjoy the night then its time to hunt some stragglers. Then I’m thinking of going further south maybe New Orleans heard there might be a small settlement out there from another traveller, might be able to get another courier job or at least I’ll be able to stock up on supplies properly after all these years there isn’t much left in the cities to scavenge.
I better get some rest got a long day of freak killing and walking tomorrow.
Chapter 3
The Road to Home
I left Richmond yesterday. It’s a long road to New Orleans I wished I lived in the days when cars worked. NARU are the only people with working vehicles left and they aren’t exactly the sharing type. Its so lonely out here its been weeks since I last saw another living person the only things you see out here in the ruins are freaks by the hundreds. Its hard to believe the whole world was reduced to nothing by something my mom created. I remember her being the kindest most caring person in the world to think that she could create something so destructive is unbelievable. I’ve still got a long way to go the first city I should have to go through is Raleigh.
I’ve been walking for about a day and I can see the ruins from here. Its always so surreal to see the cities now, so desolate so empty. I remember growing up in Seattle, the city lights, the noise it was always so alive and busy. Now they’re all empty husks or mostly empty at least can’t forget about the freaks. Must’ve killed a thousand of them on my way here almost got bitten when one jumped me under an overpass about 10 miles back. Luckily my machete seems to be as good as ever at cutting up freaks. I should make it to Raleigh within the day.
Made it to Raleigh and its a mess, thousands of freaks I could hear the moaning and screaming from a mile away. I’m going to try finding my way around the city no point in trying to fight my way through a wall of freaks.
Heard crying coming from a house I walked past I decided to check it out and I found a young boy name Richie hiding in a bathroom with what looked like his infected parents trying to break the door down. I took both of them down with a clean headshot. The look on his face when he saw them dead breaks my heart. He says they’ve been hiding out in this house for a month or two after there homestead was overrun by freaks. Its a sad story but it gives me hope that people are at least trying to survive and rebuilt. He’s only 16 yet he’s seen so much and has nowhere else to go so I asked him if he wanted to stick with me and he was elated so I guess I’ve got a sidekick now. I’m not complaining should make the long lonely road more interesting. He’s got no combat experience but he can shoot a pistol so I gave him one of my backups at least I always carry extra. We’ve decided to hunker down for the night and do some scavenging before we leave for Charlotte tomorrow. I’ll be nice to have company for once I’ve been alone for so long.
I woke up to a gunshot and Richie screaming in the other room. When I got there I found Richie pale as snow and a little girl that was clearly infected shot lying on the floor. When I asked Richie who it was he replied in a cold distant voice “My little sister”. It was a heart breaking moment in less than 24 hours Richie had lost everyone. That was a feeling I knew too well my mom was all I had my dad died when I was really young and all I knew after the Outbreak before I left the safe haven was NARU but that wasn’t the best place to build personal connections just a bunch of science types that destroyed the world. Not exactly the most social lot and the security forces were just a bunch of military types that didn’t like the fact that as a teenager I was doing better than them in every metric except raw physical strength but even in that I was better than a lot of them. It’s almost time for us to get going I should pack up and make sure Richie’s okay.
We decided to stop by the old gun store on our way out of Raleigh. Richie mentioned seeing it when him and his dad went out to scavenge one time. He says it looked all locked up meaning there’s a good chance that there might still be something left to take. When we arrived there Richie was right it was locked tight it looked like there might be a way in from the roof so we decided to climb up when I got up there I was jumped by a freak that was just waiting but this one was different smarter in a way it heard me climbing up but instead of screaming and jumping off to get me it decided to hide and wait. In my years of freak killing I’ve never seen one that waits and ambushes. I hope this isn’t a sign that the infected are getting smarter. Anyway Richie popped it in the head and we got in to the gun store and what a find it was. I managed to get a brand new Glock 9 with a torch attachment and extended mag to replace the pistol I gave Richie. Speaking of Richie he decided on a 12 gauge pump with a tube extension and a AR-15 with a suppressor, extended mag and front grip. We also found enough ammo to keep us stocked even if we have to shoot our way to Charlotte now that we’re locked and loaded its time to leave this shit hole and start walking to the next shit hole at least for once I won’t be alone.
Chapter 4
The Road to Charlotte
We’d been walking for 60 miles before we were jumped by a gang of thugs. I caught a round to the leg before I knew what was happening Richie was more awake than me and managed to put a round through the bastards chest before his friends jumped out from behind two cars in front of us we managed to take cover behind a ruined car and we returned fire. I could see the thugs had no skill they just fired randomly in our direction while we were in cover I waited till they had to reload and tossed a molotov at one of them burning the bastard to a crisp. Richie rushed the other and unloaded some buckshot into his head. My leg hurts like a bitch. Richie bandaged it up for me he’s really starting to get used to life on the road. Looking at our map it looks like there is a gas station about 10 miles away so I guess I’ll limp my way there so we can hunker down while me leg heals. I still can’t believe I let the bastard catch me lacking but it won’t happen again
We made it too the gas station. The place looks almost perfectly preserved except the group of freaks that were shuffling around outside nothing that we couldn’t deal with. There is a lot of food and water here and we should be safe here while my leg heals. I hope we don’t run into any more problems till then. I trust Richie but he’s still learning and I’m not sure he’d be able to deal with any major problem on his own.
Its been 4 weeks since I took that shot to my leg and I’m feeling a lot better. Richie managed to find some painkiller so he was able to get the round out and everything healed nicely. He really is an amazing guy young and naive but he really is a good person. I don’t know how I did it without him for so long. It nice not being alone any more. I think I’m ready to get moving again we have about another 100 miles left to go before we get to Charlotte so we better get moving.
We’re about 20 miles from Charlotte, the roads been peaceful we ran into a group of survivors living on a pretty well fortified farm about 25 miles back. They were having issues with some freaks hanging around their water pumping station so we dealt with them for them in exchange for some antibiotics to help with an infection Richie got in his leg where he cut himself jumping a fence while a freak chased him before I could dome it. Only god knows how I didn’t get an infection in my leg after getting shot but he did from cutting himself on a rusty fence guess I’m just lucky. After helping them back we continued on our way. Nothing else interesting happened and Richie is looking a lot better and his cut is basically healed. We should get to Charlotte within the day but I want to stop on a hill on the Outskirts to set up base and get a look at the situation in the city because the farmers mentioned that a horde had passed through recently and they usually get held up in cities they should have moved on by now but better safe than sorry
Chapter 5
Charlotte
We made it to the hill outside Charlotte and the place is infested millions of freaks. I’ve never seen so many of them in one place and I think I know why. In the middle of the city is an old NARU emergency treatment centre. A place where all of the cities first infected were sent. A good plan till there were to many of them and quarantine was broken then all it was was a collection of infected right in the middle of the city which lead to the whole thing being infected much faster. I’m guessing this caused most of the freaks to pile and the smell was attracting more. Oh I forgot to mention the smell imagine a pile of thousands of rotting corpses that’s the smell I’m talking about. There’s no chance we’ll be able to get through the city but I need to get to that NARU site. There might be some old documents or something about my mom I need to find out what happened to her. I’ve spoken to Richie and we both agree that we should try and divert the horde away so we can have time to get to the NARU centre.
Richie has volunteered to draw the hordes attention away while I get to the NARU building. The plan is he triggers an explosion at an old gas station on the other side of town while I get to the building and look for information about the virus and what happened to my mom. All I know is that my mom created the virus while working for NARU. I need to find out what happened to her. I hate putting Richie at risk but it needs to be done.
I just heard the explosion and it works thousands of freaks started moving like a tidal wave of flesh towards the sound I hope Richie is on his way to the meeting place at the abandoned NARU checkpoint on the south side of town but I don’t have time to think about it now I’m almost at the NARU centre I need to be as fast as possible
I made it to the NARU centre and it’s covered in bodies there’s no way I can get in it looks more like a pile of living human corpses than a building I’m guessing the freaks all turned on and consumed each other till they were all stuck and fused together. I’m making my way to the NARU checkpoint I hope Richie is already there and safe.
I made it to the NARU checkpoint and reunited with Richie. He was covered in blood and gore. He had to kill hundreds of freaks to make it here. He says he was almost bitten a few times. I can’t believe I risked his life for nothing. I’ll never do it again. While exploring the place I found this.
20 March 2025
Dr Olivia Warren
Dixie is at the Safe zone.
I can’t live with myself any more. 4 billion people dead
The final communication between my mom and NARU it turns out she couldn’t live with the guilt and decided to kill herself. I can’t blame her I would probably do the same if I was the reason the world ended and killed billions of people but it still breaks my heart. I am happy to know she’s dead and not infected lumbering around somewhere.
Richie is exhausted and so am I were going to take a brake here and continue on to Atlanta tomorrow.
Everything is packed up and we’re ready to go. Last night was rough I kept watch while Richie slept I hate to admit it but I think I’m falling in love with him. I never really had a first love I live for 13 years at NARU but I was the oldest kid there by far by the time any of the boys were close to my age I was already jaded and thinking about leaving so I didn’t pay any attention to them but Richie is different when I found him he was so helpless and lost now he’s strong, confident and he’s so loyal to me. I don’t want to speak to soon by I think he might feel the same way I guess time will tell we still have a long road to walk together. Speaking of walking Atlanta here we come.
Chapter 6
Road to Atlanta
We ran into a group of survivors hiding in a shed on the outskirts of Charlotte on our way home two parents and a little girl they were all bitten and waiting to turn they begged us to put them down before they turned so I did but I think it took a toll on Richie. He’s been almost silent since it must’ve reminded him of his parents and little sister I hope the day never comes that one of us get bitten and the other one has to decide whether or not to do it but if it does I hope Richie has what it takes to put me down if not I hope I get to do it myself before I turn but I shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. Thinking about your own death is a pretty sure-fire way to make it happen.
We ran into a pretty large group of infected must’ve been about 20 of them but all of them behaved the same as the one that jumped me on the roof of the gun store back in Raleigh. I guess that confirms that it wasn’t a once off thing but I still wonder what causes it maybe I’ll find out one day. We took them all down and continued on I hate to admit it but I really enjoy killing freaks call it therapy I guess. Richie is running low on ammo for his 12 gauge. There should be a gun store in about 30 miles so we should be able to restock there. My ammo supplies are also running a bit low only got about a hundred rounds per gun left. I know that sounds like a lot but with all the freaks on the roads it barely enough after Raleigh I had about a 500 per gun. Lets hope we don’t run into any large hordes till we get to the gun store.
We made it to the gun store just to find it controlled by 2 less than friendly guys. They opened fire as soon as they same us. We returned fire and we’re about to enter the store. Richie kicked the door down and I rushed in I let of two shots taking down the one guy the other was a second away from filling me with bullets from his Uzi but luckily Richie put a round through his chest and another through his right eye before he could. Thank god. I don’t know what I would do without him. We’ve decided to rest tonight and continue tomorrow morning.
Dixie: “Hey Richie”
Richie: “Hey Dixie”
Dixie: ”How you feeling buddy”
Richie: ”Oh you know always OK”
Dixie: ”That’s good buddy”
Richie: “Hey Dixie thank you for everything you really are the best thing that ever happened to me”
Dixie: ”Don’t mention it buddy I love you”
We’re almost 20 miles away from Atlanta and I’m not hopeful judging by smell. I’m guessing its going to be a lot worse than Charlotte but we’ll have to wait and see.
We’ve made it to the outskirts of Atlanta and its as bad as I thought there are hundreds of body piles almost the size of buildings. The living freaks move around the city streets like blood through the veins of the body. Some of them are engaged in massive fights with other groups ripping each other apart.
We’re going in tomorrow but for now Richie’s hunting while I scope out the area. I hope he brings some venison anything but rabbit. I’m sick of rabbit meat. When he comes back I want to try and cuddle up to him and see what happens
Richie and I have eaten and we’re getting ready to sleep. I asked Richie if I could sleep in his sleeping bag with him. He looked at me like I was crazy but once I insisted I was serious I could see the joy on his face so we cuddled up for the night and went to sleep
Wow it felt so amazing sleeping in Richie’s arms and today everything feels different but in a good way everything just feels more intimate we had an amazing conversation about life this morning and it feels like our bond is on a whole new level. Its time to go explore Atlanta there should be an old NARU field hospital on the North-side of town but we’ve got a whole city to get through before that.
Chapter 7
Atlanta
Atlanta is a nightmare right now we’re stuck in a pharmacy bunch of freaks trying to get to us. I’m busy wiring up a pipe bomb while Richie holds the door then when I’m done BOOM
Richie Move....
BOOM....
Well that’s one way to deal with freaks. Always hate being covered in gore though. We’re near the city centre now and its as bad as we thought the place is infested with freaks every building, street and alley we’ve been fighting for every mile we’ve been moving basically carving our way through the city leaving streets flooded in blood but its worth it I can see the NARU hospital and it looks like I might be able to get in this time.
We’re Exploring the NARU hospital and its a goldmine I found a bunch of old documentation on the virus and even some reports of small towns keeping quarantine for years after the Fall. There’s also apparently an old supply and weapons depot nearby so were going there next.
Richie has been opening up a lot his little sister was out playing when a freak got her. Her parents couldn’t put her down so she turned and bit them he hid in the bathroom for 2 days before I got there and put then out of the misery. I wish I could understand how he feels because I never had anyone except my mom and I lost her so young so it never really affected me. I love him so much. This would be so difficult without him.
We made it to the NARU supply depot and it basically empty I mean it make sense Atlanta was one of the first city to fall due to vast number of infected that moved in from the nearby NARU detention camp. That was a bright idea locking up a bunch infected in one place and expecting the place to last. So the city fell to chaos pretty quickly and NARU withdrew most likely taking everything with them that or it was looted after the city fell doesn’t matter now its almost night and we should get some rest we’re going to camp on a nearby rooftop.
Sitting on the roof with Richie and a fire I can’t help but feel like life isn’t that bad yeah its not what it used to be but I mean I have food and freedom and someone I love what more could someone want from life. Looking out at the desolate streets full of freaks well except the streets we pushed through I see the death of the old world and the birth of a new one.
I should get to sleep we got a long road to Birmingham tomorrow. Its so warm and cosy pressed up against Richie.
Chapter 8
The Road To Birmingham
On our way out of Atlanta we ran into a huge freak and I mean a huge motherfucker must’ve been at least 10 feet tall and covered in muscle it looked like it was made of at least 5 other freaks. He tossed Richie against a car and knocked him out I managed to chop one of its arms off before it threw me 10 feat in the air and I crashed down on my back and passed out when I woke up Richie was putting round after round in the things chest and it still wouldn’t go down to I ran jumped on its back and used my machete to chop the freaks head off and burnt the body with a molotov just to be sure the thing was dead
Richie was pretty beat up and I’m not going to lie so was I my back hurts like a bitch but we keep on going no matter what because we still have each other. Still I wonder how those freaks got combined into that thing. Maybe that’s why they pile the way they do so they can combine into something bigger I remember something in one of the NARU document mentioning the virus being able to cause “cellular recombination” so I wonder if that’s not maybe what happened and if it is it means things are about to get a lot worse and a lot more dangerous.
We’re about 50 miles always from Birmingham now. The road has been pretty quite only the occasional group of freaks and the group of raiders we ran into outside a gas station awhile back but this time we got the drop on them and not the other way round gave all three of them a new hole in the head Richie was worried that they might be survivors till we found Sandra tied up in the gas station bathroom turns out the bastards grabbed her from her family farm during the night a few days ago and have been taking turns on her over and over since then. We agreed to take her home its the least we could do after everything that happened to her. When we got her home we found the place burnt down and her family butchered outside. I’m guessing after they grabbed her the bastards came back to finish the job. She’s decided to stick with us she’s a lot older than me and Richie. She used to be a nurse before the Outbreak she dealt with some of the first infected until NARU took over the hospitals. When things really started to go bad she moved back to Alabama to her old family farm to live with her parents they managed to set everything up before the Fall and have been living there since well till recently. She’s pretty shook about the whole situation but she should be okay in a day or two. We’ve all lost something in this new world.
We’ve made it to the outskirts of Birmingham and the place is a fortress looks like remnants of the US military and NARU have fortified the place they have watch towers, auto-turrents and armed patrols. Also looks like they have a lot of military hardware. I know better than to approach the main gate NARU has a shoot on site order for all there quarantine zones no reason to assume this place would be any different. Still I have to get a look inside. Tonight while Richie and Sandra set up camp I’m going to look around and see if I can find a way in. I have to know what’s going on here.
I’ve taken a look around and I’ve found a way in through an old sewer pipe running into an old factory from there I should be able to sneak into the city and have a look around maybe they have some new information on the virus or at least I should be able to find some weapons for Sandra
Chapter 9
Birmingham
Richie and Sandra are waiting for me back at camp while I go explore the city. I left most of my kit behind except my Glock and combat knife. I’m not planning on getting into any fights and if I do I want the finished as quickly as possible. I’ve made it to the sewer pipe it should lead me to the sewer grate I saw on the other side of the fence from there I should have free reign over the city as long as I avoid the NARU patrols and don’t draw to much attention to myself.
I’ve made it into the city and it looks like something out of a George Orwell novel. Security cameras on every street, I’ve seen security forces beat a man to death and another group drag a young women kicking and screaming into an abandoned building. I hate to say it but I think life is better outside with the freaks than in here. Can’t say I’m surprised there’s a reason I left the NARU security forces and the safe zone. Lets just say civilian life and happiness has never been on their priority list. I can see a NARU supply depot I should be able to get a uniform and standard load out last I remember NARU doesn’t have a way of removing employees from the database so my security id number should still work.
I was right NARU never changes I just used my id to get a brand new NARU-P-2a NARU's home grown assault rifle basically its everything the AR-15 is but better its literally a gun made for killing freaks and you can feel it. I always wished I stole one when I left but I guess better late than never I also scanned through a few of the latest security reports and it seems like big guys like we fought back in Atlanta are becoming more common as well as a new faster infected with razor sharp claws that hunt and ambush their victims. We haven’t ran into one of those yet and I hope we don’t any time soon. I hope Richie and Sandra are okay, they should be we have no shortage of fire-power but I still worry. I’m going to keep taking a look around and maybe find out how they’ve maintained quarantine for so long
Well I got my answer and its not a good one. The NARU higher ups here basically outlawed being sick. Anyone with any symptoms that might be HRV-1 are immediately executed and burnt without exception I guess that’s one way to maintain quarantine but I can’t help but wonder how many thousands of innocent people have died to maintain it.
I think its about time I get out of here and back to Richie and Sandra.
I made it back to camp. I’m so happy to be back with Richie. He went out hunting and brought back a nice fat wild pig for dinner. Sandra is looking a lot better as well she still has that distant look in her eye but that should go away soon
Next stop Montgomery Alabama.
Chapter 10
The Road to Montgomery
I still can’t get it out of my head. The freaks are changing getting more dangerous, if I understand correctly the longer they are infected the more unstable the virus gets leading to mutations. I hope this doesn’t mean that the longer we survive the harder its going to get but there’s no point in worrying about whether or not the freaks are going to be stronger in the future as long as we make sure we get stronger too it should work out just fine. Richie and I are doing really well our love kinda makes everything a lot easier. Gives us a reason if that makes sense Sandra on the other hand is kinda dead weight if I’m being honest but its not her fault. She’s been through a lot Richie and I do our best to look out for her and take care of her. I just wish she’d start to adjust to life out here she still winches every time we take out a group of freaks or thugs and she’s a bleeding heart. Yesterday as we were going past a little abandoned convenience store we heard a little girl crying when we asked what was wrong she said they were trapped and needed help. It was obviously a trap we could see the store was fortified and the little girl looked too happy for a kid whose parents were stuck and dying but Sandra insisted we go in and help and what do you know the kids parents are perfectly healthy and holding us at gun point luckily I’m pretty quick on the draw and managed to put two rounds through the fathers chest and Richie tackled the mom. I walked up to the big dude and put one through the head to make sure the mom learns her lesson. We agreed to let her and her daughter live as long as the promised to stop robbing travellers. Sandra couldn’t handle the fact that I finished the dad off even though I think that was better than leaving his family to watch him bleed out because there was no way he would have survive I shot him through both of his lungs they would have filled up with blood and he would have chocked to death I did him a favour by putting him down but she didn’t see it that way even threatened to go it on her own until Richie and I told her to go ahead if she really thought it was the best thing for her. She then decided to stick with us
We’re nearly at the outskirts of Montgomery, we just passed the old civil rights monument. The roads been a bit too still I have a bad feeling about what we’re going to find when we get there

Hey everyone! I back again with some more funny shenanigans with our good pals Lerson and Silversmith. Thank you all for the great feedback for the last chapter, it really made my day. I'm excited to hear what you all think about this next one. Hope you all enjoy!
And again a special thanks to SpacePaladin15 for the NoP universe! __________
[First] [Next] __________
Memory Transcription Subject: Lerson, Undercover Farsul Date [standardized human time]: October 24, 2136
How did I get here? Just yesterday I was running for my life through the forest on this backwater planet and now I am sitting in the back of a vehicle with a predator, who thinks that I am some kind of hunting beast. Well… what do I do now?
The first part of my plan went off without a hitch. The simple minded predators had not realized I was not one of their slave beasts, so they released me from their holding pens. However, I am now trapped in a car right alongside my new predatory master.
Maybe I could try to take it down. It doesn’t seem particularly dexterous at least compared to the other predators I have seen. It is not looking at me now, so I would have the upper hand, but it is nearly twice my size. I will probably have to hold out for a little bit longer before I make my move.
I am suddenly pulled from my thoughts when the predator in the front seat begins to growl, “Car, can you bring me to the pet store, please?”
‘Pet Store,’ what is that? My translator says that it is a place for the sale of animals. Is it going to sell me already? Maybe I am just being sent to my new prison. My heart races as I watch the vehicle begin to slow down and come to a stop in front of the building. The elderly predator gets out of the vehicle and walks around to the door next to me. Oh no! This isn’t part of the plan. I thought I was finally out of that place, but now I am just about to get locked up again. The door opens.
“Okay bud, we’re gonna get you some things,” it said. Huh. I am not getting sold? The predator grabbed the end of the rope around my neck and beckoned me out of the vehicle. I chose to oblige and we slowly made our way towards the nearby building.
It was a small structure that looked like it was in disrepair. It makes sense that the predators would not upkeep their buildings all they care about is killing and eating. I was surprised to find that they even have buildings to begin with.
The old one pushed the door open, which produced a soft jingle as we walked in. First thing I noticed was the intense smell. It was almost overwhelming with how many different scents there were. Looking around the aisles of the shop were very narrow and the shelves were packed with different items. “Um, so the lady at the shelter suggested that I get food, bowls, a bed, and… I don’t really remember what else. That’s probably fine to begin with, we can always come back later.”
We walked down one of the narrow aisles, which had dozens of bags of ‘kibble.’ My translator says it is “ground meal shaped into pellets, especially for pet food.” That does not sound very appetizing. The predator stops and starts looking through the different options. I also start to look around. The bag nearest to me has an ingredients list. Luckily I opted for the built in visual translator. Scanning the ingredients it contains mostly different grains and other fillers, which is surprising from predator food, but it also lists ‘animal byproducts’ which sounds horrifying. I guess whatever the Terrans do not end up eating gets tossed to the lesser predators.
“Let’s get this one. It says it’s for ‘senior’ dogs. Ha! That’s something we’ve go in common”
Really?! Do I look that old to everyone? By the Tenants, maybe I need to dye my fur after I get out of this mess. We continued going around the store picking up items until we got to the counter near the front.
Speaking to the predator behind the counter my ‘master’ says, “Good afternoon Bobby. How’s everything going?”
The young predator behind the counter responds, “Not too great, Mr. Silversmith.”
“Oh. I spose that was a bad question to ask, sorry.”
“It's okay sir, there is just a lot going on. I’m glad that my parents and I are all fine, being out here in the country, but my brother works in the city and we still don’t know if he’s alright.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope for the best.”
“Thank you. Now what can I do for you?”
“Oh I’m just buying some supplies for old Buddy over here,” he gestures down to me.
The clerk looks over the counter towards me, “Uh… Mr. Silversmith…” The old predator cuts him off, “I know he aint the best lookin’, but can’t say much about myself either, so I don’t need to hear it.”
“Sure… Well… let me ring that all up for you then.”
Spekh! That one has to know, right? Perhaps these predators are not as dense as I thought and the one I got is just really stupid. Well at least that helps my plan, but I will still have to be careful around other Terrans.
The old one finishes paying and we head back down to the vehicle and it drives off. After about [~34 minutes] we reach what I think is the elderly predator's den.
It is at the end of a very long dirt roadway, tucked among the trees, that I see the structure. Just like the pet shop it is a small building made out of simple materials like wood and stone. I suppose the predators really are as primitive as I thought.
The vehicle comes to a halt next to the building and the old one steps out. After he opens my door, I step out of the vehicle as well. I follow him to the entrance of the den, which is a simple wooden door painted bright red. And if I remember correctly that is the color of blood on this planet. So savage!
Upon entering, the interior looks very similar to the outside with wood adorning the walls and floors. Though I was surprised how similar the layout was to the living quarters back at the guild. The room at the entrance looked to be some kind of lounging room with a small couch and rug in the center of the room facing a screen mounted on the opposite wall. To the left of the door was what I could only assume was a kitchen with storage cabinets covering the walls.
The elderly predator returned to the car to retrieve the items it purchased at the ‘pet shop,’ which makes this the best time to do some sleuthing. I made my way past the lounge room into the depths of the den. Past the entrance room was a hallway leading further back. It was adorned with photographs filled with predatory snarls. I did my best to ignore them and worked my way further down the hall.
Up ahead there was a door and upon opening it I found a room which, by the smell of it, must be a lavatory. That really reminded me that I had to go to the bathroom. My cell did not even have a waste pit. I made my way quickly into the room and relieved myself with haste. Once I finished I thought about flushing the ‘evidence,’ but that’s when I heard the front door open again, so I was forced to hurry out of the room.
“Hey Bud! Where did you go?” it growled from the other room. I made my way back to the entrance as quickly as I could manage on all fours. “There you are. So do you like the place?” the predator asked. I did not respond and just looked towards it. “Ha ha, great!” it growled. I did not say anything?
“So I got your food and water bowls over here. Let me go fill them up. You’ve gotta be hungry.”
It walked over to the kitchen with the bowls in hand and filled one with water from the sink. The other bowl, the predator filled with the ‘kibble’ from earlier. Then it placed them both on the floor. It looks like the food situation might not be any better than my previous arrangement at the holding pen.
“Well, I spose I should eat dinner as well.”
It opened the large metal cabinet and began looking through it. I snuck a little closer to get a better look. When I approached I could feel the chill coming off of it, so I could assume that it was some kind of refrigerators unit. Must not be that primitive I suppose. After a bit of scrounging around the refrigerator, the elderly one pulled out a clear plastic container. It was green on the inside. Is it really going to eat rotten flesh!? I guess that is expected of a predator.
As it opened the container I braced my nose for the putrid smell of rotten flesh, but it never came. I watched as the predator poured out leafy greens into a bowl. Huh, a predator is eating plants?
Wait, I do remember that during the Terran’s deceptive talk at Aafa, they had said they were [all-eaters]. I guess that must be true. Watching it eat the greens is making me even hungrier than I was before.
I watched as the elderly predator finished its salad. It brought the bowl and utensils to the sink to begin washing them. I waited in the corner of the kitchen for him to finish and leave. My stomach was killing me and I could only think of the amazing taste of a crisp salad. Finally the predator finished his task and turned away from the sink. It looked towards me and then at the bowls on the floor. “Aren’t you hungry boy? You haven’t touched your food at all… I hope you’re alright. Maybe I need to take you to the vet tomorrow?”
Vet? My translator says that that means ‘animal doctor.’ Even though the average human is pretty oblivious, a doctor will be sure to realize that I’m not really a ‘dog.’ I can not let this Terran take me there. I know what I have to do, but I do not like it. I steel myself as I walk over to the bowl and stare down at its contents. Am I really going to do this? You have to! So, I lower my head and bite down on a mouthful of ‘kibble.’
It… is not that bad? I honestly expected worse.
I suppress the thoughts of the ‘animal byproducts’ in it and swallow. Immediately I wash out my mouth with the water in the second bowl. Then I turn to look at the human who is now snarling at me. I freeze. Did I do something wrong? Did it figure me out?!
“There you go. Ha ha. I was worried for a second there.”
What? Is it happy that I ate? Then why is it snarling at me? Maybe maybe that means that it is happy? These predators are so weird. At least it seems like I have avoided detection once again. Nailed it!
The old predator, having been satisfied, let out a yawn revealing all its sharp teeth… well… most of them were surprisingly quite dull. “Okay bud it's getting late, so I think it's time for me to turn in, but let me get you your bed first,” it said. Reaching into the biggest bag from the pet shop the elderly predator pulled out a round fluffy bowl. It looks similar to beds I saw when working on the Iftali and Sulean homeworld, though this one is a lot smaller. It placed the bed down in the living room next to the couch.
It paused, “Oh wait. I should probably take you outside before turning in for the night. Don’t want a mess in the morning, come on.”
I follow the predator as instructed, wondering what it wants me to do now. It leads me out a side door into a grassy area. “Okay… do your business,” it said.
What? Does it want me to do something? I just look around seeing if there's anything to give me any clues.
“I guess that didn’t work. Go potty.”
What?! Is it commanding me to defecate?! Outside! I guess he does think I am an animal. But there is no way I am doing that especially with it watching me. Why is it watching? Is it some kind of pervert? Grr, Screw the plan!
“Okay… uh… I guess come back in when you’re done,” it says as it turns to walk back to the house.
Thank the Tenants! I wait [a few minutes] and then slip back into the predator’s den. On my return it spots me, “Oh good you’re back!”
It walked over to the side door and locked it. Then the predator shuffled to wall switches and turned off most of the lights. Thankfully it left a singular lamp turned on. It is already bad enough that I am stuck in a predator's den, but being in the dark with a predator would be too much even for me.
“Okay goodnight bud, see you in the morning,” said the old one. Then right as it entered the hall it stopped and looked down at a nearby table, “Good night Ella. Good night Ben. Good night Martha.” Then it walked out of sight.
Who was he talking to? Are there other predators here? I don’t smell anyone else and I think I would have heard them earlier. Spekh! Did I get a crazy one?
Okay craziness aside, I need to eat some real food. I finally stood upright. Ah my back! It was already getting bad enough when I was back home. Hopefully I can get used to this because walking on all fours is killing me right now.
I walk over to the refrigeration unit and slowly open the doors trying to stay quiet. Looking around the inside I am surprised to find so many vegetables. However, I did spot a slab of flesh towards the back, which I did my best to ignore.
Now, I can not just eat anything, it might notice if food is missing. Scrounging around for a [minute] my eyes eventually find a plant in one of the lower drawers. It looks like a big bundle of large leaves. I take it out and pry off one of the ones on the outside. It comes off relatively easily with a crunch. Hopefully this is edible. I bring the leaf to my mouth and bite down. It makes a very satisfying crunch as a do. There really is no distinct taste, but I am so hungry that I don’t even care if it is bland.
I scarfed down the rest of the leaf quickly and then grabbed another and then another. Before I knew it, the bundle was only a third of the original size. So much for being sneaky. Finally satisfied, I returned what remained of the bundle to its proper place and closed the refrigerator doors.
After finishing my raid on the refrigerators, I thought about what the old predator had said earlier. I walked over to the table near the entrance to the hallway. There must be something interesting here. However, there was nothing but a handful of photographs. Looking at them in the dim light I was able to make out the wide snarls that adorned the faces in the photo. I guess It makes more sense now since the snarl is a ‘happy’ expression. It is still very strange to me.
The photo closest to the front had the old predator standing next to a much younger predator, which appeared to be wearing Terran military pelts. Strangely, the young one has very bright orange hair on the top of its head.
Next to that one there was a similar photo, but the old predator looked slightly younger. The other Terran in the photo looked similar to the first. They did share the same bright orange hair, but the enlarged mammaries indicated that this one was a female.
I then spotted another picture including the same female, but this time she was next to a different predator and she was holding a Terran pup, which had the same orange hair. Perhaps the female was the mother of the other one. Most of the other photos appeared to be different combinations of the same four predators: the old one, his offspring, his offspring’s mate, and then their pup.
I moved over to the other side to see if I could find anything more useful. There was a photo that stood out to me. It pictured the old one, but he looked significantly younger even more than the other photos. Standing next to him was a female, which had the same orange hair as the others. Who was this? I had not seen it in any of the other pictures.
I searched around to see if I could find any more with this female in it. Towards the back I saw two pictures next to each other. The one on the left had the female again with the old predator. Laying in a bed she was cradling a newborn pup in her arms. However, the photo on the right was the old one with the pup in its arms. The pup appeared to be a year or two older in this one, but where was the mother? Looking at the older predator I saw the look in his eyes. I know that look. Cerci…
No! They are predators! They are not like us! You know they can not think like us! It's not the same!
Grr, you are tired… just… just go rest. I walk over to the bed. I curl up and try to let sleep take me. __________
[First] [Next] __________
So much for being comedic and lighthearted. I promise that the rest of it won't be so depressing, but I wanted to add a little more substance to some of the characters. Thanks again for reading! Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions, I really appreciate it.

TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.
My boyfriend (21M) and I (20F) have been together for nearly 3 years. For 2 years, we were long distance. In August 2023 is when we closed the distance and began living with each other in real life. Last week, the week of May 5th, is when this situation begun.
We frequently took edibles (weed) as part of our routine. Last Tuesday, he did just that - and while he was high, he started to get curious about his parents' finances. He began to text both his mother and father, asking questions about what they've saved up for their retirement. His mom seemed to be dodging his questions a lot, but eventually she told him that she estimated that both she and his father would have around 10-13 million after retirement. Not only this, but she also both implied and outright confirmed that my boyfriend would be inheriting this large amount of money after they pass away. This quickly unlocked a hyperfixation for him, and we began to talk about it together. It's all we talked about for that week, because we thought, why is this something that his mother would lie about? There's absolutely no understandable reason that she would have to lie about this. I should mention that, after Tuesday, he did not take any more edibles or substances, though regardless I feel that weed may have partially played a role in why this happened.
Throughout the week, as he was delving into this hyperfixation, his behavior began to change. I didn't truly notice it at the time, and just thought he was very reasonably acting a bit odd and excited because, this was a life changing thing that was presumably happening for the both of us. I didn't think to question his mother's statement. Me being passive to his behavior and not suspicious of his mother's statement and behavior is something I feel I am to blame for, because it turned out to be a slowly building manic episode. On Friday, May 10th, is when we found out that the 10-13 million inheritance was a lie. He was distraught - absolutely broken. Something snapped in him after that day.
On Saturday, he woke me up at 6-7 am. I suspect that he may not have slept Friday night into Saturday morning. He reassured me that he would be okay, we would both be okay after this, that we would get over it and be able to focus on something else. But very quickly throughout Saturday his behavior shifted drastically, and it turned into a full blown manic episode. For the entire first half of the day, he paced around our apartment, glued to his phone, spamming everyone in his life about the thoughts he had been having. It's normal for him to be on his phone a lot, so I didn't question this. I regret it so much, I should have noticed the signs. It's difficult for me to convey what exactly his thoughts were or what his hyperfixation was, because most of it didn't truly make sense, but the short version of it is that since the inheritance wasn't real, he began to hyperfixate on starting a business from the ground up with both me and his friends. It spiraled from there.
In the evening is when his behavior began to become violent and increasingly more erratic. He began to direct his frustration and anger towards me, starting to hyperfixate on me and our relationship, blaming me for the entire situation. We've had a difficult relationship, but we've always managed to come back full circle either way. He became paranoid of me, believed that I could hurt him, and so much more. It broke my heart. It's more than I can convey into words. Saturday evening into Sunday morning I stayed up all night with him, trying to handle the situation as best as I could, but it only got worse. Eventually, his parents arrived at our apartment. He's always had apprehensions about introducing me to his parents for multiple reasons, especially including the fact that we met online. He believed that they wouldn't understand it, and he didn't have a close relationship with his parents to begin with at all. It sucks that I could only meet them as this situation was going down.
Sunday, May 12th, is when his parents took him to the emergency room. It is only just yesterday that he was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I'm heartbroken. I'm keeping in contact with his mother, but I haven't gotten many updates from her besides the fact that he's in a hospital and that they're waiting to hear from the doctor. Based on what I've seen with his behavior and researched, it seems that his manic episode eventually turned into a psychotic break. I also suspect that he may have bipolar 1 disorder. I'm not a doctor, but it matches up with everything that I've seen, and I'm devastated. It was horrible. His mother has bipolar disorder, though im not sure what type - though my partner did mention that his mother would have occasional manic episodes.
It's been two days since he's been gone. All I've been doing is grieving. I've eaten very little, all I've been doing is crying, and everything in our apartment reminds me of him. It's incredibly painful to be here without him because we spent all of our time together. I'm also worried about him being in the hospital itself - I don't want him to be mistreated by others or misdiagnosed. Psych hospitals can be very hit or miss, and it terrifies me. It's possible that he could be there for several weeks at the very least given how severe his mental state was. I just don't know what to do, or what this means for us in the future. He hasn't even gotten a diagnosis yet, from what I know. I just feel like I'm being kept in the dark. I don't know anything about what's happening at all. I just want him to be okay. How can I get through this? I don't think I can get through this. What happens when he gets back? Is he gonna be okay? Have any of you experienced what it's like to be kept in a psych hospital? I don't know what to do with myself when he comes back, I don't know how to support myself in the mean time, and I don't know what this means for us or for our relationship. I'm so, so scared. I'm terrified. I love him so much, I just want him to be okay.
I don't have many people around me to support me, so posting here has been my last resort. I feel awful, I feel horrible, I feel like this is all my fault. I feel like if I saw the signs earlier, I could've prevented this, I could've grounded him, I could've brought him down from where he was headed. I don't know what exact mental illness he has yet, I can only assume based on what I've seen. But, has anyone ever been in a similar situation like this? What do I do with myself? I know he's getting the help that he needs, but I can't help but worry for him. I feel super isolated and alone and anxious in our apartment. It's empty here without him, incredibly empty.
If you've read this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. It means more to me than you know. So, once more, TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.

Reddit Account: u/Valyrianwyrm
Discord Tag: vasilissabella
Name and House: Rhaenyra Syriaxes
Age: 21
Cultural Group: Essoi Valyrian
Appearance: A beautifully etheral pale woman with angular features, with a prominent cupid's bow. She has long silver-gold hair that falls in waves, deep purple eyes bordering on black that rarely display emotion, short stature and a lithe elegant build.
Trait: Agile
Skill(s): Avaricious(e), Bows, Ranger, Ravenmaster
Talent(s): Music, Singing, mathemathics, Caligraphy,
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Paymistress of The Lost Legion
Starting Location: With the Lost Legion
Alternate Characters: N/A
Rhaenyra Syraxes was born on 4AC during a serene night inside Achissa´s walls to Rhaegar and Laena Syraxes, both descendants from the original officers that guided the legion through the chaos in the aftermath of the Doom. Her family were no dragonlords but Valyrian blood still ran through their veins, and an unbreakable pride came as a result of their blood of shepherds.
Her father was one of the numerous burocrats keeping the city and it´s Legion functioning and so he had managed to amass a substantial fortune, nothing compared to what the whoremongers and dye dinasts from neighboring cities but substantial enough to provide young Rhaenyra the best education available, no expense was spared! By her third name day the young heiress had starting learning language and the most basic of numbers, Rhaegar himself would take his child to watch him work and be familiar with the delicate machine that was Achissa.
Her mother´s approach to education was different to Rhaegar´s, Laena was a force of personality and did not let her status as a lady of class detear her from learning whatever valuable skills she desired, this was the philosophy s she would take regarding Rhaenyra. By Nyra´s fifth name day she would start archery lessons with her mother and at the same age she would also begin a peculiar way of fighting that would be suited for her lithe frame.
For a while life was good for both the Syraxes and Achissa as a whole, despite the meddling of Sunset barbarians and apostate dragonlords the Legion had made a good on it´s promise of taking back even a small part of the Freehold´s essence... Unfortunately the gods had other plans and suffering would be visite upon Achissa.
In 23AC the Legion was almost anhilated, Achissa had to be evacuated and in the chaos Rhaenyra´s parents died leaving her alone in a cruel world. During the hazardous ordeal of getting to safety the now orphan girl would meet and befriend Daemon Tarreos both of them bonding over the pain, it would be through him that Rhaenyra got started in the legion.
Because of the scarce manpower pool the Legion now passed they started allowing women on certain roles be it combat or burocratic ones, Rhaenyra took part in both types fighting alongside archers and other skirmishers while quickly rising too becoming Paymistress; normally this would not be allowed but in desperate times she had risen high. Furthermore she creates a small unit of 'broken things' fellow exiles that shared her fervent desire for revenge.
Now The Paymistress find herself in a land full or barbarians and surrounded by potential enemies, her mind focused only one thing that being revenge for what was lost. Rhaenyra did not care about anything else besides letting her hatred be fulfilled and she swore on her family´s blood that everyone involved would pay for what was done.

Timeline:

4AC - Rhaenyra Syraxes is born
7AC - Rhaenyra starts her education under Rhaegar and various tutors on burocratic skills
9AC - Laena starts teaching her daughter in skills she deems necessary.
23AC - Destruction and evacuation of Achissa, death of Rhaegar and Laena
24AC - Due to lack of skilled administrators and manpower Rhaenyra rises to Paymistress of the Legion

Family Tree:

Rhaegar Syriaxes - Father
Laena Syriaxes - Mother

Archetypes:

Lysandra - Warrior (Bows)
Larra - Warrior (Bows)
Mysaria - (Bows)
Silvario - General
Lotho - Warrior (polearms)
Lysaro - Warrior (One handed swords)
Aelyx - Warrior (Polearms)

TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.
My boyfriend (21M) and I (20F) have been together for nearly 3 years. For 2 years, we were long distance. In August 2023 is when we closed the distance and began living with each other in real life. Last week, the week of May 5th, is when this situation begun.
We frequently took edibles (weed) as part of our routine. Last Tuesday, he did just that - and while he was high, he started to get curious about his parents' finances. He began to text both his mother and father, asking questions about what they've saved up for their retirement. His mom seemed to be dodging his questions a lot, but eventually she told him that she estimated that both she and his father would have around 10-13 million after retirement. Not only this, but she also both implied and outright confirmed that my boyfriend would be inheriting this large amount of money after they pass away. This quickly unlocked a hyperfixation for him, and we began to talk about it together. It's all we talked about for that week, because we thought, why is this something that his mother would lie about? There's absolutely no understandable reason that she would have to lie about this. I should mention that, after Tuesday, he did not take any more edibles or substances, though regardless I feel that weed may have partially played a role in why this happened.
Throughout the week, as he was delving into this hyperfixation, his behavior began to change. I didn't truly notice it at the time, and just thought he was very reasonably acting a bit odd and excited because, this was a life changing thing that was presumably happening for the both of us. I didn't think to question his mother's statement. Me being passive to his behavior and not suspicious of his mother's statement and behavior is something I feel I am to blame for, because it turned out to be a slowly building manic episode. On Friday, May 10th, is when we found out that the 10-13 million inheritance was a lie. He was distraught - absolutely broken. Something snapped in him after that day.
On Saturday, he woke me up at 6-7 am. I suspect that he may not have slept Friday night into Saturday morning. He reassured me that he would be okay, we would both be okay after this, that we would get over it and be able to focus on something else. But very quickly throughout Saturday his behavior shifted drastically, and it turned into a full blown manic episode. For the entire first half of the day, he paced around our apartment, glued to his phone, spamming everyone in his life about the thoughts he had been having. It's normal for him to be on his phone a lot, so I didn't question this. I regret it so much, I should have noticed the signs. It's difficult for me to convey what exactly his thoughts were or what his hyperfixation was, because most of it didn't truly make sense, but the short version of it is that since the inheritance wasn't real, he began to hyperfixate on starting a business from the ground up with both me and his friends. It spiraled from there.
In the evening is when his behavior began to become violent and increasingly more erratic. He began to direct his frustration and anger towards me, starting to hyperfixate on me and our relationship, blaming me for the entire situation. We've had a difficult relationship, but we've always managed to come back full circle either way. He became paranoid of me, believed that I could hurt him, and so much more. It broke my heart. It's more than I can convey into words. Saturday evening into Sunday morning I stayed up all night with him, trying to handle the situation as best as I could, but it only got worse. Eventually, his parents arrived at our apartment. He's always had apprehensions about introducing me to his parents for multiple reasons, especially including the fact that we met online. He believed that they wouldn't understand it, and he didn't have a close relationship with his parents to begin with at all. It sucks that I could only meet them as this situation was going down.
Sunday, May 12th, is when his parents took him to the emergency room. It is only just yesterday that he was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I'm heartbroken. I'm keeping in contact with his mother, but I haven't gotten many updates from her besides the fact that he's in a hospital and that they're waiting to hear from the doctor. Based on what I've seen with his behavior and researched, it seems that his manic episode eventually turned into a psychotic break. I also suspect that he may have bipolar 1 disorder. I'm not a doctor, but it matches up with everything that I've seen, and I'm devastated. It was horrible. His mother has bipolar disorder, though im not sure what type - though my partner did mention that his mother would have occasional manic episodes.
It's been two days since he's been gone. All I've been doing is grieving. I've eaten very little, all I've been doing is crying, and everything in our apartment reminds me of him. It's incredibly painful to be here without him because we spent all of our time together. I'm also worried about him being in the hospital itself - I don't want him to be mistreated by others or misdiagnosed. Psych hospitals can be very hit or miss, and it terrifies me. It's possible that he could be there for several weeks at the very least given how severe his mental state was. I just don't know what to do, or what this means for us in the future. He hasn't even gotten a diagnosis yet, from what I know. I just feel like I'm being kept in the dark. I don't know anything about what's happening at all. I just want him to be okay. How can I get through this? I don't think I can get through this. What happens when he gets back? Is he gonna be okay? Have any of you experienced what it's like to be kept in a psych hospital? I don't know what to do with myself when he comes back, I don't know how to support myself in the mean time, and I don't know what this means for us or for our relationship. I'm so, so scared. I'm terrified. I love him so much, I just want him to be okay.
I don't have many people around me to support me, so posting here has been my last resort. I feel awful, I feel horrible, I feel like this is all my fault. I feel like if I saw the signs earlier, I could've prevented this, I could've grounded him, I could've brought him down from where he was headed. I don't know what exact mental illness he has yet, I can only assume based on what I've seen. But, has anyone ever been in a similar situation like this? What do I do with myself? I know he's getting the help that he needs, but I can't help but worry for him. I feel super isolated and alone and anxious in our apartment. It's empty here without him, incredibly empty.
If you've read this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. It means more to me than you know. So, once more, TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.

Reflecting on 2021, truly marked the zenith of my young career. The pandemic was coming to an end, I was fresh from the hallowed halls of a prestigious but unheralded college, thrust into the corporate labyrinth where, as a mere sidekick to the big shots, I contributed to a deal of record-breaking magnitude. My modest corporate minion life was exaggerated into legend by my professors during an alumni reunion, leading to a rather embarrassing episode where I was paraded around as the poster child of their education career’s success. My parents, not ones to shy away from a bit of pomp, lauded my achievements to anyone within earshot.
But as 2022 unfurled its chaos with the epidemic, my professional life spiralled downwards as swiftly as it had risen. I was laid off, and replaced by a nepotistic hire—my boss's new mistress's nephew. During my dismal final days, my colleagues, once comrades became corporate sharks, whispers of them scheming to claim my last efforts as their own filled the empty office spaces.
Compelled by financial duress to abandon my central city dwelling, I relocated to the outskirts with two college mates, Jaz and Kath, who had similarly found themselves victims of the economic downturn. We settled into apartment 606, a unit with dubious charm, suspiciously affordable on the 13th floor of a dreary building, its corridor haunted by a flickering sensor light that was only designed to function on rare occasions. Yet, the apartment itself was surprisingly very well furnished, almost like something that jumped out from a design mag, out beating sample rooms in Ikea, boasting a spacious balcony, a living room ready for an impromptu soirée, a dining table that’s good enough to hold a banquet(became our co-working space) and a kitchen isle that became our sanctuary and curse.
When we first settled into our new abode, we discovered a trove of fine kitchen utensils, perfect for whipping up sophisticated cuisine and crafting cocktails worthy of a swanky soirée. Tucked away in the fridge, among the remnants of the previous tenants' life, was a quaint note: “The three of us really enjoyed our stay here, especially our meals and nights spent by the kitchen island. We hope you find as much joy in it as we did. Use it well.” With a casual flick of my wrist, I dismissed the note into the garbage can, oblivious to the depth of its seemingly innocuous message. Little did I know, that piece of paper was more a passing of the torch than a simple goodbye.
Our initial days in apartment 606 brimmed with camaraderie and impromptu celebrations: movie nights sprawled on the living room sofas, barbeque dinners under the stars on our balcony, and co-working sessions at the dining table, peppered with resume tweaks and contemplative conversations over cocktails. We even scored a second-hand karaoke machine, allowing me to channel my inner diva—a throwback to my musical theatre days in college and my stint as the voice of corporate presentations and negotiations at my previous job, where I was known for my resonant yet finely tuned voice.
Yet, as the months wore on and the job market remained unyielding, our early merriment slowly surrendered to a creeping anxiety. The kitchen island, once the heart of our home where laughter and shared meals flowed freely, gradually morphed into the epicenter of our collective unease, bearing silent witness to the quiet desperation settling over us.
One evening, in the suspiciously affordable yet stylish apartment, I sank into the sofa, my spirits dampened by my favorite team's disheartening loss. The mood was grim, mirroring my fears of my beloved player's potential retirement at season's end. Later, as we congregated around the kitchen island for dinner, I transformed into an impromptu sports commentator, passionately preaching about the game’s disappointing details that led to failure and my favorite player’s fine qualities. Meanwhile, Jaz updated us on a friend's melodramatic breakup, with guesses that something ugly must have happened behind the scenes. Kath, ever the culinary enthusiast, not only served up her delicious pasta but also dished out the latest celebrity gossip, each tidbit as spicy as her sauce.
The next day, during a late breakfast at the same kitchen island—our unwitting oracle—we were hit by a triple whammy of reality checks. The news of my favorite player's retirement broke, echoing my gloomy predictions from the night before. Jaz chimed in with an update that our friend had uncovered a cheating scandal worthy of its own reality TV special. And Kath, never one to be left out of the drama: her favorite celebrity was now the star of a scandal.
By the third morning, as we sipped our coffee, the newspaper slapped me with another bizarre twist. I was going through the devastating economics and politics sections, then I saw the sports section——featured an irate coach, hell-bent on convincing my favorite player to dismiss retirement plans and keep his jersey on a little longer. Meanwhile, Jaz had good news for a change: it turned out our friend's love story might have a second act after all, as misunderstandings were being cleared up. Amidst these revelations, Kath, who had been grumbling about the nearby supermarket’s inability to stock anything remotely gourmet, and hadn’t had a taste of her favorite Blue Mountain coffee since the beginning of that year, triumphantly found a can of Blue Mountain coffee, and it was on sale and therefore affordable—proof that miracles happen, and sometimes they even go on discount.
As I sat there, absorbing the serendipity of our discussions manifesting into real-world events, I couldn't help but marvel at the mysterious knack of our kitchen island. Was it merely a coincidence, or had this stylish piece of decor become the unlikely conductor of our lives symphony? One thing was certain: life in apartment 606 was never dull, and our kitchen island seemed to be more than just a place to eat—it was a place where, apparently, you could stir the pot of fate.
I decided to conduct a whimsical experiment with our now seemingly magical kitchen island. Clearing my throat theatrically, I declared, "I should be interviewed for a director position." To my sheer astonishment, the next day a headhunter rang me up, claiming I was the ideal candidate for a directorial role at a prestigious corporation in my field. Despite the other candidates possessing decades more experience which defeated me with no effort, and my own lingering self-doubt from months of unemployment, I sailed to the final interview round with the company's executives.
Upon returning to our apartment, I found Kath flaunting a chic dress from a designer brand brand she’d snagged on clearance—a little luxury courtesy of our wish-granting island. Inspired, I approached the island and cheekily requested, "Get us jobs. Something fun." Lo and behold, the following day was spent lounging and binge-watching Netflix, only to be interrupted by a call from a former bigwig at my old job. He was venturing into a more illustrious company and wanted me onboard. The informal chat that followed was a breeze, and just like that, I was back in the game with a fancier title and a fatter paycheck.
The subsequent week was a flurry of celebrations. Jaz secured a senior-level position, and Kath landed her dream job at an influencer management agency. Feeling triumphant, we decided to indulge in a night of fine dining—our first in months. That Friday evening when I went from office to restaurant, on a whim, stopped at a convenience store to grab snacks and cigarettes for our post-dinner revelry. Outside, I encountered a homeless person. After offering him a sandwich (which he traded for a cigarette instead), he took a drag, peered into my eyes, and ominously muttered, “Look, young lady, this isn’t my business, but be wary of what you wish for; everything comes with a price. Good luck and god bless you.”
His words barely registered until later that evening when a mishap occurred that seemed to underline his warning. As we enjoyed syphon coffee post-dinner, a barista accidentally tripped over Kath’s flowing dress. The resulting spill left her with first-degree burns, abruptly ending our night as we rushed to the emergency room. Though it was "just" a first-degree burn, the pain was significant enough to require several days off for Kath’s recovery. Amid the drama, I couldn't help but wonder about the cryptic caution from the man outside the store—had our fortunate streak come with a hidden cost?
We chalked up the coffee calamity to bad luck. The next month flowed smoothly: Kath's fingers healed, she returned to work, and I quickly found my groove at the new job. With all of us gainfully employed, our communal meals at the kitchen island became rare. My mornings were a whirlwind of grabbing breakfast and coffee on the go, followed by an hour's commute to a job that had me scarfing down instant noodles by nightfall, just in time for a quick shower.
As the busy season kicked in, my workload ballooned—not just from the seasonal uptick, but because I was hell-bent on proving my mettle. I quickly outshone most of my peers, and my employer, recognizing a budding overachiever, piled on major tasks, which I eagerly accepted. What started as the occasional hour of overtime soon devoured my weekends. Unpaid overtime, as the fine print in my contract gleefully noted, became my new norm. Driven by a mix of ambition and expectation, I had become the go-to young hotshot, the erstwhile record-breaker now expected to continually outdo myself.
Mentally, I was too swamped to entertain thoughts of anything beyond work, which, in a twisted way, felt like a break. Physically, however, the strain began to show. A bout of flu caught on a business trip escalated into a fever. Sick as I was, deadlines waited for no one, and I soldiered on medicated and miserable. By the time I made it home, my voice had abandoned me. Unable to utter a word the next morning, I resorted to emailing my manager about my sorry state.
That week, robbed of my voice, I mused that it was perhaps a well-deserved hiatus for my overworked vocal cords—a silent retreat if you will. But when my voice did return, it was as a raspy whisper, a shadow of its former crisp and melodious timbre. My doctor offered a grim prognosis: slight improvement might come, but the golden tones were gone for good—scarred by the relentless grind. Ah, the price of ambition—a scratchy throat as a permanent reminder of my corporate conquests.
It seemed I had unwittingly exchanged the clarity of my voice for the tumult of career success. In the midst of our domestic enchantment with the possibly mystical kitchen island, Kath unearthed the contact of a reputed psychic, hailed as the finest in the land. However, the consultation fee was nothing short of princely, and with Jaz vehemently dismissing anything that couldn't be explained by cold, hard science, she promptly opted out of splitting the bill. Kath and I, unwilling to drain our wallets on what could be mere phantasmagoria, reluctantly let the opportunity pass.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a curious change in Jaz’s routine. She had ceased dining at the kitchen island, avoiding it as if it were cursed—or perhaps, in her view, simply out of style. The Saturday morning brought a particularly harsh twist: a murder of crows took to spiralling above our balcony, their cries as sharp as the plot of a Poe novel. We found ourselves drawn to the infamous kitchen island, lined up like the cast of a macabre play, silently praying for the birds to disperse. Kath, ever trying to restore some semblance of normalcy, offered up cups of Blue Mountain coffee. She absentmindedly inquired if I wanted cream or sugar in mine—a blunder that made me realize just how long it had been since our last coffee klatch at this very spot. My inner monologue couldn't resist a dark wish for the crows to scatter, perhaps too dark, for they began to dive bomb our balcony in a feathery kamikaze. The spectacle was enough to knock Jaz off her feet—literally—as her mug met its end on the floor. Kath, meanwhile, made a hasty retreat to worship the porcelain god, and I sat frozen, my brain offline, pondering the twisted power of our kitchen island's apparent wish-granting.
After the unnerving spectacle of crows turning our balcony into a scene straight out of a Hitchcock film, our first rational step—post-collective fainting, of course—was to summon cleaners to manage the feathery carnage. Then, still rattled but increasingly curious, we visited a psychic, who, contrary to the crystal-ball-gazer image, operated out of a posh boutique in a high-end mall and dressed more like she was headed to a fashion show than a séance. We laid bare our saga of the seemingly cursed kitchen island, complete with photographic evidence of where domestic bliss meets eerie phenomena.
The psychic introduced a term that chilled the air around us: “limbo,” the threshold between our world and the otherworldly, and she dubbed our kitchen island the "Devil’s Bargain Counter." According to her, our wishes came with a heavy and unpredictable price, because we have accidentally started trades with beings from the netherworld. Her advice was disarmingly simple: cease all trades on the island. To address the repercussions of past wishes, she advised us the first line of defence, which was an eclectic mix of offerings laid out on our cursed countertop: raw meat(rooster works the best), a cocktail of spices(coca and cinnamon preferably), liberal splashes of spirits(whiskey and rum ideally), and an eerie bouquet of black flowers(luckily I found some black roses at a flower shop of the mall). In a grander gesture of appeasement, Kath relinquished her shiny new diamond bracelet, Jaz her absurdly expensive headphones, and I parted with cash—— a hefty slice of my bonus in hopes of placating whatever capricious spirits we'd angered.
Our return to normalcy was brief but sweet, prompting us to plan a getaway, eager to forget about our nefarious kitchen island. Yet, the respite was merely a tease. Jaz, in a stroke of spectacular misfortune, narrowly dodged disaster twice in one day—first nearly becoming subway track fodder on her way back after work, and then almost getting knocked out by a rogue plant at our apartment building’s doorstep. Clearly, our previous offerings were mere appetizers to whatever forces we'd stirred. The psychic, summoned once again to our now-dubious sanctuary, decreed that the spirits had developed rather expensive tastes, unsatisfied by our initial gestures.
In a desperate bid for closure, we had the psychic over for a nighttime ritual, timed perfectly with Earth's closest approach to the netherworld, according to her. Our living room turned into a ritual chamber, with windows blacked out for days, to keep the otherworldly dealings strictly nocturnal. That night, we arranged ourselves around the island, now less a kitchen fixture and more an altar of last resort.
The psychic, amidst a chorus of Latin incantations, directed us through a chilling séance that included a mirror that reflected nothing but darkness and a burning black candle, the three of us sat in a row, joined hands, eyes closed. When the black candle was flickering at its last, the first eerie scratches heard prompted our eyes to open prematurely, we saw a command appear on the island, written by invisible hand and pen, in blood-red script, urging us to find the next "succeeder" before our lease on otherworldly disturbances could be terminated.
With bated breath, we agreed, and as if by magic, our signatures materialized on the countertop, then faded as the candle sputtered out. We tore off the black cardboard taped on the windows at dawn, the sunrise revealed a final message etched into the surface: "Debt cleared." As the daylight grew, the ominous inscription dissolved into nothingness, signalling the end of our spectral saga.
The ordeal, now officially behind us, left us enjoying a semblance of normalcy: life in 606 returned to its mundane rhythm, with dinners and movie nights back on our social calendar. Though not without its scars—literal and figurative.
It’s been two years since then, Jaz, in the throes of romantic bliss, is now gearing up for a new chapter waiting to be written alongside her soon-to-be spouse; Kath, her career finally taking a lucrative turn, was poised to upgrade her living situation, she secured a lease on a lavish serviced apartment in the city center—a place that matched her newfound financial swagger.
I’m not without my own leaps forward. With a modest boost from my parents, I took the plunge into homeownership, snagging a property within the city’s vibrant confines. The process was a whirlwind of paperwork and decorating decisions, culminating in a space I could truly call my own.
As we are packing up now, my last act is to type out our story, at the infamous island, and of course, I left a note in the fridge for the next tenants:
"Welcome to 606. We had a wonderful time here, especially at the kitchen island, filled with joy and unforgettable moments. We hope you find as much happiness as we did. Use the isle well. Warm wishes, the previous tenants."

TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.
My boyfriend (21M) and I (20F) have been together for nearly 3 years. For 2 years, we were long distance. In August 2023 is when we closed the distance and began living with each other in real life. Last week, the week of May 5th, is when this situation begun.
We frequently took edibles (weed) as part of our routine. Last Tuesday, he did just that - and while he was high, he started to get curious about his parents' finances. He began to text both his mother and father, asking questions about what they've saved up for their retirement. His mom seemed to be dodging his questions a lot, but eventually she told him that she estimated that both she and his father would have around 10-13 million after retirement. Not only this, but she also both implied and outright confirmed that my boyfriend would be inheriting this large amount of money after they pass away. This quickly unlocked a hyperfixation for him, and we began to talk about it together. It's all we talked about for that week, because we thought, why is this something that his mother would lie about? There's absolutely no understandable reason that she would have to lie about this. I should mention that, after Tuesday, he did not take any more edibles or substances, though regardless I feel that weed may have partially played a role in why this happened.
Throughout the week, as he was delving into this hyperfixation, his behavior began to change. I didn't truly notice it at the time, and just thought he was very reasonably acting a bit odd and excited because, this was a life changing thing that was presumably happening for the both of us. I didn't think to question his mother's statement. Me being passive to his behavior and not suspicious of his mother's statement and behavior is something I feel I am to blame for, because it turned out to be a slowly building manic episode. On Friday, May 10th, is when we found out that the 10-13 million inheritance was a lie. He was distraught - absolutely broken. Something snapped in him after that day.
On Saturday, he woke me up at 6-7 am. I suspect that he may not have slept Friday night into Saturday morning. He reassured me that he would be okay, we would both be okay after this, that we would get over it and be able to focus on something else. But very quickly throughout Saturday his behavior shifted drastically, and it turned into a full blown manic episode. For the entire first half of the day, he paced around our apartment, glued to his phone, spamming everyone in his life about the thoughts he had been having. It's normal for him to be on his phone a lot, so I didn't question this. I regret it so much, I should have noticed the signs. It's difficult for me to convey what exactly his thoughts were or what his hyperfixation was, because most of it didn't truly make sense, but the short version of it is that since the inheritance wasn't real, he began to hyperfixate on starting a business from the ground up with both me and his friends. It spiraled from there.
In the evening is when his behavior began to become violent and increasingly more erratic. He began to direct his frustration and anger towards me, starting to hyperfixate on me and our relationship, blaming me for the entire situation. We've had a difficult relationship, but we've always managed to come back full circle either way. He became paranoid of me, believed that I could hurt him, and so much more. It broke my heart. It's more than I can convey into words. Saturday evening into Sunday morning I stayed up all night with him, trying to handle the situation as best as I could, but it only got worse. Eventually, his parents arrived at our apartment. He's always had apprehensions about introducing me to his parents for multiple reasons, especially including the fact that we met online. He believed that they wouldn't understand it, and he didn't have a close relationship with his parents to begin with at all. It sucks that I could only meet them as this situation was going down.
Sunday, May 12th, is when his parents took him to the emergency room. It is only just yesterday that he was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I'm heartbroken. I'm keeping in contact with his mother, but I haven't gotten many updates from her besides the fact that he's in a hospital and that they're waiting to hear from the doctor. Based on what I've seen with his behavior and researched, it seems that his manic episode eventually turned into a psychotic break. I also suspect that he may have bipolar 1 disorder. I'm not a doctor, but it matches up with everything that I've seen, and I'm devastated. It was horrible. His mother has bipolar disorder, though im not sure what type - though my partner did mention that his mother would have occasional manic episodes.
It's been two days since he's been gone. All I've been doing is grieving. I've eaten very little, all I've been doing is crying, and everything in our apartment reminds me of him. It's incredibly painful to be here without him because we spent all of our time together. I'm also worried about him being in the hospital itself - I don't want him to be mistreated by others or misdiagnosed. Psych hospitals can be very hit or miss, and it terrifies me. It's possible that he could be there for several weeks at the very least given how severe his mental state was. I just don't know what to do, or what this means for us in the future. He hasn't even gotten a diagnosis yet, from what I know. I just feel like I'm being kept in the dark. I don't know anything about what's happening at all. I just want him to be okay. How can I get through this? I don't think I can get through this. What happens when he gets back? Is he gonna be okay? Have any of you experienced what it's like to be kept in a psych hospital? I don't know what to do with myself when he comes back, I don't know how to support myself in the mean time, and I don't know what this means for us or for our relationship. I'm so, so scared. I'm terrified. I love him so much, I just want him to be okay.
I don't have many people around me to support me, so posting here has been my last resort. I feel awful, I feel horrible, I feel like this is all my fault. I feel like if I saw the signs earlier, I could've prevented this, I could've grounded him, I could've brought him down from where he was headed. I don't know what exact mental illness he has yet, I can only assume based on what I've seen. But, has anyone ever been in a similar situation like this? What do I do with myself? I know he's getting the help that he needs, but I can't help but worry for him. I feel super isolated and alone and anxious in our apartment. It's empty here without him, incredibly empty.
If you've read this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. It means more to me than you know. So, once more, TLDR: My partner had a very sudden manic episode turned into a psychotic break over the past week, and I'm not handling him being in a psych ward for the time being very well. It's honestly killing me, I'm so worried for him - I'm looking for advice and support on how to cope with this event.

I am a parent of a troubled teen and this is my first post on Reddit. I registered for an account, just to make this post.
About three months ago, I found a post on Reddit discussing Red Hawk Academy in Littlefield, Arizona and it made me so angry I posted a response.
You can find the original posting at troubledteens Beetlejuicenewton.
Here was my written response to the original post:
"This comment is absolutely inaccurate and incorrect. My daughter has been there for months. I speak to her every week and we exchange letters throughout the week. This is the third program, she has been in and hands down the best program. You should not make accusations when you are not the parent and not actively involved in the program. I highly recommend this program. The staff are incredible and have helped my daughter tremendously. To all parents out there, call the school and ask to speak to Valerie. I have told Valerie that I will gladly speak to any parents who are interested in the school. This program has saved my daughter.) and was utterly shocked about what was being said about Red Hawk Academy."
Not understanding how social media works (in this case Reddit), I did not know that one's opinion can be removed from a site if the comment is contrary to the original post.
After posting this comment, I received an email from Reddit that my post had been removed and I was banned from the conversation. It took me awhile to calm down, but now I am in a place where I create a thoughtful post discussing my life with a troubled daughter and our experience with RHA.
Unlike the troubledteens Beetlejuicenewton post, I will not ban individuals who disagree with me.
This is my story...
In 2020, I started to notice a difference in my daughter who was 13 years old. I started to see a shift in her behavior. She was being inappropriate while on the internet, hanging out with troubled kids, and being very unkind to her family members. She started to lie, which turned into chronic lying. She started to get mad and hit her head into the wall. She never hit her head hard enough to receive a concussion, but it did get our attention. One day, I sat her down to discuss her behavior and took her phone. When I opened the phone, she had a screensaver that was a short clip of 2 toddlers being hit by a car. When I asked her why she had this as her screensaver, she said she thought it was funny.
Fast forward a couple of months....she was in therapy that was completely useless. She managed to make a handful of the therapist cry or get really upset. My daughter seemed to find humor in upsetting others. Her lack of empathy was beyond scary. She continued to hit her head into the wall every time she was upset. She then threatened to hurt herself, but it seemed to be more of a threat than anything else.
Fast forward three years...from the age of 15 to 16....she tried to "kill" herself twice (actually didn't really hurt herself, but it did get her into the hospital), hospital dependent (always wanted to be admitted to the hospital), suspended from school for inappropriate behavior (my daughter and her boyfriend were making out at lunch with hands down each others' pants), shoplifted (she shoplifted back-to-back days and took her little brother with her to provide cover), unprotected sex (I only found out because she thought she was pregnant), lying all of the time (she forgot how to tell the truth), cutting herself and still hitting her head into the wall, treated her little brother like crap (he would come to me crying, and tell me that he just wanted a "normal" sister), experimented with drugs (she only told me because she was feeling off and was scared), allowed strangers on the internet watch her sleep)....the list goes on and on.
This all happened within the timespan of 1 year! She was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder. (For parents with daughters who have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, there is a great book I found on Amazon - When you Daughter has BPD: Essential Skills to Help Families Manage Borderline Personality Disorder by Daniel S. Lobel, PhD.)
Our family finally hit the breaking point. My husband and I were fighting all of the time, my son was so upset about his sister's behavior, and I was on the verge of having a breakdown. I cried all of the time and was so very sad about what was happening to my daughter.
We decided that we needed to send her some place. We could not manage her and she needed more help than we could provide. We sent her to a wilderness camp in Utah that came highly recommended by our therapist. I was scared to send her there, but I did not know what else to do. During her time at the wilderness camp, we had a neuropsychological assessment conducted, which resulted in an autism diagnosis. While she was slightly on the spectrum, it was clear that her behavior was driven by her borderline personality disorder. Within 5 weeks at the facility, we were advised that she was not a good fit for the program and we needed to find a therapeutic boarding school for her.
The wilderness program recommended a therapeutic boarding school in Oregon. We enrolled her in this program. She was a hot mess...she would not get out of bed and refused to go to school. She starting hitting her head into the wall (again), which the staff would not stop because the facility was a "no touch" facility, and the staff would just attempt to "redirect" her. She would punch and kick walls. Within 4 weeks of being at the school, the school called us and told us that we needed to immediately come pick her up because she was threatening to harm the staff members.
We felt desperate and full of despair. We did not know where to turn. We found the one and only program that has helped her....RED HAWK ACADEMY.
I initially called and spoke to Valerie. She and her husband, Sonny, own the school. Instantly, I felt heard and understood. During that initial conversation it came up that the school had received a reputation (not at the school's request) as the school that would take the girls that were kicked out of other programs. When I was filling out the paperwork (which is required for all programs), I got nervous because I had to sign a form that provided RHA with temporary guardianship. I prayed that this would not backfire on me. Unlike the other schools, RHA could restrain the girls when absolutely necessary. People instantly make accusations when the word "restraint" is involved in programs. What people do not understand, and unless you are in the unfortunate situation where you have a kid like my daughter, programs that restrain are absolutely essential. My daughter continually hurts herself and I need someone to stop her.
We dropped my daughter off at the school and hoped (with all of the hope we had left), that RHA would help our daughter. Programs, like RHA, are designed to help troubled kids. By no means, is this a vacation for your daughter or a break from the real world. My daughter tried everything she could to get kicked out of the program. She went so far as to orchestrate a fight with another student so they could both be kicked out. Unfortunately for her (and fortunately for us), she had consequences none of which involved removal from the school.
I have been so scared that we could not find help for her and that she would end up on the street when she turns 18 and most likely would end up homeless, uneducated, and in prison.
My daughter has been at RHA for 6 months and she is now at the point where therapy can begin. She has been so combative and defiant that it took 6 months for her to realize that she was not going anywhere and the only way she would leave the school was to complete the program.
While there have been good and many bad days, I am finally seeing a version of my sweet daughter. The daughter who used to hold my hand and tell me she loved me. For parents who are struggling, know that there are parents who understand your pain, understand the feeling of being out control, and understand how you become unsure of yourself (and your parenting skills). Just remember that you can change the trajectory of your daughter's life by getting her the help she needs. Welcome the opportunity to send her to a therapeutic school, like RHA, where she can get the helps she needs.
Thank you for reading this ridiculously long post, and I hope you can find some peace in knowing that are safe, supportive programs that can help your daughter!
I am going to write another post that specifically discusses RHA. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions.

Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

Hi all! Wanted to share my medication abortion story and experience. I am in NYC and used a planned parenthood clinic on the island in Massapequa. I found out I was pregnant on wednesday the 8th of may, my period was 5 days late and after the positive test i called around to find a planned parenthood location that could take me next day. I scheduled my appointment for the following day at 11am. When i arrived at the clinic i was nervous but ready, and thankfully everyone there was really nice, supportive and empathetic. They did a transvaginal ultrasound and estimated that I am about 4 weeks and 4 days along. Since I was so early they gave me two options; wait 1-2 weeks and come back so they can determine the exact placement of the fetus (they cannot rule out ectopic pregnancy this early on) or move forward as planned today with bloodwork to confirm my HCG levels are dropping properly. I choose the second option. They took my blood and gave me the first pill. After taking the first pill I felt completely normal. I drove home and prepared for part two. At 2pm I took the provided Tylenol and nausea medicine and at 3pm I inserted the 4 vaginal pills. They instructed me to lay down for 30 minutes and I ended up falling asleep and taking an hour long nap lol. I woke up, prepared dinner for my family and my cramping and bleeding started at 6pm. At first it was very manageable, very similar to a period, but at 8pm the cramps really started ramping up. By 8:30 I was writhing in pain, I wont sugar coat it, it hurt really fucking bad lol. The worst of the pain lasted till 10pm and by 11:30 I felt calm enough to fall asleep for the night. I was still cramping pretty heavy in my sleep and definitely didnt sleep well but when I woke up I felt confident the worst was over. I felt pretty out of it till about noon, my energy was low and my cramps were uncomfortable but I was still able to make myself and my daughter breakfast and we went out for a short walk that morning. I rested and took a long shower in the afternoon and felt almost normal by the evening. I would compare it to "day 2" of your period. I went back to planned parenthood on saturday morning for my follow up bloodwork and they called me back today (tuesday) to tell me my HCG levels have dropped from 1113 to 174! So the procedure was successful and there is no more follow up from here. I am still bleeding lightly with super slight cramps and it is very manageable. All in all, the procedure was definitely rough but since the pain was pretty short lived i would say it isnt as bad as having an unwanted child lol. Please feel free to DM me if you have any questions! Hope this helps someone ❤️

this is something i’ve gone back and forth with for as long as i can remember, but especially since meeting my (25f) husband (26m) 8 years ago.
before him, i was adamant i did not want children. the idea always left me uneasy, made me uncomfortable. as a child i was never the typical play with baby dolls, play pretend mom sort of kid. it made me wildly uncomfortable to picture myself as someone’s mother even as a child. however, my husband is the absolute love and light of my life and loving someone so unconditionally and fully has shifted my perspective over the years. he would be an amazing father and it makes me want to create a life with him that has half his dna.
in 2019 we bought a house. a few months after, despite me having an IUD, i ended up pregnant. i was 20 at the time, we were dead broke (buying a house that young will do that to you), and i was deep in the trenches of my (multiple) mental illness. i struggled for a few weeks trying to decide what i wanted. my husband told me he loved me and if i wanted to keep it, he was nothing but happy and excited. he never pressured me one way or another. in the end i made the choice to terminate the pregnancy. it was an extremely painful decision, but i knew i was in no place financially, mentally or in my maturity to bring a life into this world. it felt like i would be doing an injustice to my child and making a horribly irresponsible choice.
i’ve never considered myself to be an overly sentimental type. i terminated the pregnancy at 6 weeks, it was little more than a raspberry seed. they gave me a picture of my ultrasound at the appointment to confirm my pregnancy and 5 years later, i still have it. it’s tucked away and mostly forgotten about but i have it, couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.
i know now that even though i regret it occasionally or wonder how my life would have turned out, i made the best choice i could have. i was not ready to be someone’s mother. no one close to me in my life was having children yet and i was not ready to be the first to break that barrier and feel the weight of becoming a mother with no one to relate to.
now, three of the people closest to me in my life have had children in the last year and a half and my best friend is currently pregnant. attending their baby showers has filled my chest with this ache and anxiety. like this deep sadness? that i’m not experiencing this beautiful thing and not sure if i ever will. maybe it’s like the most fucked up biological case of fomo but i can’t help the way it makes me feel.
when i think about my husband and i as parents, i see good things but my biggest fear in the world is how much a child would change our dynamic and that there is no guarantee it wouldn’t drive us apart. for context, my husband and i literally never fight. not in the unhealthy “don’t communicate our feelings with each other and let it built into quiet resentment” way, but that we literally just have nothing to fight about. we do okay for ourselves financially, he manages all the bills/budgeting. we have healthy communication and a very affectionate and loving relationship. he is my best friend, i could spend every second in his presence and never get tired of him. he is the love of my life.
but i don’t have any strong examples from my own life of people who have not had their life flipped upside down by having children. maybe their foundation was week to begin with and a child was the draw that broke the camels back, but i can’t shake the anxiety that kids ruin relationships. i know logically this isn’t true, but watching my parents extremely toxic and messy divorce has left a lasting impression on me that somehow the stress of me and my brother existing were largely to blame. all of my friends growing up always had single/divorced parents. i’ve watched from a distance countless couples fall apart shortly after having children. i would rather never have a child than ever ever lose my husband.
that being said, i still can’t shake the extremely foreign feeling of maternal desire. i don’t know what to do with it or how to make it better. i don’t really know why im writing this, maybe just to get it off my chest or get some outside perspective.
TLDR: i’ve gone my whole life not wanting children until very recently i am second guessing my life long conviction and it has left me extremely confused.

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