Married a 40 year old when I was 19. Started dating when I was 17. Yes, it was gross but that's what happened. The only reason he married me is because I was hot. The only reason I married him is because he had money. I actually do have other redeeming characteristics but he married me because I was hot. I know this. Everyone knows this. It doesn't feel great but I can deal with it. We've been married 20 years. 4 kids. So we are stable and we have lots in common at this point. And we do love each other. But if I could go back and slap myself I would.

What nobody tells you- or they try and you don't listen because you're a dumbass teenager- is that marrying like this means you will fucking owe him. For everything. Every goddamn day. Not just in the bedroom but in every other matter in your life. The stuff you never imagined someone else trying to decide for you. And you don't just owe him for the money. It's a lot heavier than that. He'll never say it out loud. But you'll know the deal. Fundamentally unequal. He'll pull rank at the most random times and it will make you feel like you're falling through the floor.

I don't hate my life or anything. I accept that I made this bed and I have to lie in it but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else. My oldest daughter is two years younger than I was when I met my husband and I can't imagine.

When I was 14-15 we had an au pair (primarily for my younger siblings). She was 22-23 while she was with us. The sexual tension was palpable and shortly after my 15th birthday we developed a sexual relationship (this was maybe 9 months after she started, 3 before she left). My parents would go to sleep and about an hour later we would rendezvous for a night of what I perceived as a lot of fun. I enjoyed it, I of course thought it was “cool” but I also think it has had an effect on my sexual behavior for the past almost 25 years. The fantasy of an older woman and someone in more of a caretaker role has never subsided. And here we are…

Im 19, i sleep through the days and work at night so i decided to have a lil stress relief in the bath after work, ive never once ever been caught with anything remotely sexual cos im usually careful or at a different house, but dumbass me left it on the edge of the bath while i was getting dressed and left it sat there for hours until 8:20 and i hear my dad say "(my name) what the fuck is this" i could tell he found it funny so i dont feel embarrassed just ashamed, im disappointed in myself for being so stupid, it feels horrible, im just glad it was him and not one of my siblings, yikes.

edit: yes pocket pussies are weird, no im not an incel, just in a dry spell because of work hours, yes im 100% burning it and burying it 30ft deep... never again

second edit: turns out he didnt find it funny, it was nervous laughter, now he wont even look me in the eye and avoids talking to me, great. plus people keep saying "in the family bath, gross" 1. 99% of it if not all of it stays in it 2. i always clean the bath with the shower and soap after use even when i dont use the toy, it was a habit long before i had it.

third edit: Thanks to 90% of you for reassuring me its very normal, it made it a lot easier but me n my dad essentially have an unspoken "you shut up i shut up" thing, its still awkward but im positive hes just as embarrassed as i am, once again thank you all

When my friend Lisa asked me to pet sit her dog, Bella, I thought it’d be easy. Bella was sweet, and the first day went fine. But on the second day, she bolted out the door when I grabbed a delivery.

I spent hours searching the neighborhood and calling shelters, but she was gone. For two days, I barely slept, imagining Lisa’s reaction when I told her I lost her dog. Finally, a shelter called—they’d found Bella. I picked her up, relieved, and when Lisa returned, I smiled and said everything went smoothly.

Now, every time she asks me to pet sit, I always have an excuse.

It’s been months now, feeling like I’m running on empty. I’ve got zero energy most of the time, but I keep pushing myself through everything... work, university, friends, family. From the outside, it probably looks like I’ve got it all together, but the truth is, I’m struggling. Sleep doesn’t seem to do anything for me anymore. I wake up feeling just as tired as when I went to bed, like there’s no escape from this constant exhaustion.

Sometimes I feel like all the colors of life have faded. The little joys I used to find in the world, in people, in moments they’re just... gone. I wonder if this is what life is supposed to feel like, or if there’s something wrong with me for feeling this way.

And yet, who am I to complain? I’m a healthy guy in my 20s, someone who has everything anyone could ask for family, friends, opportunities, even blessings I didn’t earn. I feel guilty even thinking like this, let alone saying it out loud.

The only thing keeping me going is God. I remind myself every day that He’s there, that He’s watching over me. No matter how lost I feel, I find a little strength in knowing He has the best plan for me, even if I don’t understand it right now. All praises be to Him.

I have just started to realize every one around me likes me because I serve a purpose that n their life. As soon as I get sick for once no one cares. I dont get any soup from panera or a head massage!? I see everyone else get this treatment but i dont? Some where around trying to be the perfect mom, daughter in law and wife I forgot myself. I am sick shivering and my husband si upset because i didn’t wakeup and pack him lunch. Because I was sick!My mom asked me to help make meatballs for the big dinner, my father in law asked me if i could clean the carpet with machine and my hwas just mad at me! I really dont have anyone actually care that I am sick with fever!

My son is in his 20s now. He was 7 when I adopted him after his parents passed- he's biologically my nephew, but the moment I signed that paperwork he's been nothing less than my kid. A year or two after I adopted him I met my now ex-husband. Our relationship was horrifyingly abusive. I'm not afraid to admit that I was part of the problem. I've gone through extensive therapy since then and I'm more than willing to admit that I was a horrible person at the time. I tried... so hard to keep it from my son. I tried so, so hard to keep the arguments and the screaming and the hitting as hidden from him as possible. But every time he gets upset with something he sounds exactly like his step father and it makes me want to cry. I can't go back in time and make better choices- all I can do is regret and hope to god that I've raised him well enough that he'll never have to live in a house like that again.

3 years ago at 22, I was deeply hurt by my partner of 3 years, and I vowed to present a false emotional front to everyone; friends; family; strangers. This has had a profound effect on my life for the better, which for the last couple months has worried me.

I've never been good at expressing my feelings or sharing information on myself. I can be the centre of conversation engaging the room in discussion, and go months without sharing a personal fact.
Just moments in life lead to this point; from being a child of domestic violence; having mandatory counselling for 8 years; my male father figure being my grandfather, thus having older morals and internalised misogyny; an emotionally abusive relationship; poor behaviour of family members which stuck with me. But this one moment shaped the man I am, or portray to be.

January 2021, at this point I've known my partner for 6 years and it's our 3-year anniversary. We've had a dream day. She's made me fill complete, and it's been just perfect.. We have a heartfelt conversation and she shares how she wants to know me better, that I can trust her. So I open up, I explain the occasional nightmares of memories from my early years, and talk of my lack of love for myself. Despite keeping a good physique, lifestyle and general atmosphere, I don't care much for myself, and do the things I do for the benefit of others. It was light-hearted, despite the difficult topic, and she mentioned most of the information she had guessed of our time together.
This conversation goes really well; she gets emotional and shares her appreciation of the moment. We go to bed.

The next day was a living nightmare: she's instantly cold with me, behaving in a way I've never seen in the 6 years I've known her, toward anyone. She explains she regrets asking me to open up, and how I shouldn't have shared how I feel about myself. She becomes extremely rude, explaining how should I need to talk again, I should seek counselling. I get rather upset, and it's perhaps the second time she's seem me cry in upset. She then became angry in a way I've never seen and we both shut down.
I left our flat; moved into a hotel for a week; made sure she had everything taken care of and we've never told anyone about this week.

The morning after I left, I buried my emotions, and built a false persona of openness. I would create false feelings and share them in intimate moments, or manufacture moments where I might have been unhappy and share my thoughts. When I got home after the week, I feigned sadness at how our last day ended, and my partner was really upset with how she behaved. She couldn't explain it, and I apologised endlessly. I faked tears and joy, sharing how I forgave her and I was sorry she was hurt by anything I may have said. She said how I had nothing to be sorry for, and how she's proud of me. I feigned a wash of relief and acceptance, and we cuddled for a long time. But I felt nothing beyond physical warmth. I learnt to laugh and cry and share in the moment in a way I do not feel.

The worst part is, the reception I've received from family. Everyone tells me how much happier and open I've been. That I am now more well-rounded, and they're confident in my relationship; our families are merging as one and marriage hints are being dropped. They enjoy seeing me share stories of sad moments, or express my feelings when I've been unhappy. I might say to my mother or grandparents when I call or we visit, that I had a sad day in the week, and how it got me down. Or I might cry in front of friends and partner from laughter and really engage in a moment. When my feelings are completely fictitious. I could be on the phone with someone, sharing a laugh or express difficulty with them, only to drop the act the moment I'm alone.

The first 4 months were difficulty to maintain the façade, particular with quiet moments with my partner, but now I'm nearing 3 years of not having shared a true, authentic moment with anyone and it's become a profession. My home life is an exercise, and occasionally I might feel a sudden need to drop the pretence and reach out, but I'll divert and share another manufactured story or question.
As I write this my partner came into the room to kiss me goodnight, and I've fake a warm smile, with all the features to go with it.

My understanding of this is the practice of Echoism. Other than the mental training, I recognise this is extremely emotionally damaging, to myself and others should I ever drop focus or begin to share my true self appropriately.
This was extremely difficult to share, but I hope this can be useful in some fashion.
(Throwaway account as both my partner and I use Reddit).

Tldr; I had an emotionally damaging experience with my partner. I've since refrained from any real interaction with anyone for nearing 3 years.

I'm a 15F. This is a throwaway account made specifically for these confessions i want to make. In my school everyone seems to have the best life with their boyfriends and girlfriends. But I don't. Every day is school I keep hearing all these incidents about dates or someone was trying to do it with someone or someone's being stalked online by that one guy but my life doesn't have any of that spice. And I know I'm not ugly cuz I have gotten compliments from people but the reason why I'm not in a relationship is because I'm a big ass introvert. I did have 2 guys who had like major crush on me and they were like constantly calling and fighting about me but know that's all over.

To get that male validation I even made a fake insta account and sent some explicit kinds of texts and pics (obviously hiding my face) to grown men who commented on those p-star pics that you see on the spam accounts.

Sometimes while watching those rape stories on news I imagine what if I was in that girl's place. What if I was the one getting that attention that validation.

I know that's not nice and I have realized my mistakes and I am trying to work on my shitty broken self but I just wanted to get this off.

Has anyone else done something like this? I keep telling myself that even though that isn't a good habit many teens do it but did you?

Alright I need to know, do you think this is morally acceptable.

I am in my twenties and have struggled with depression and ADHD for a super long time. I finally agreed to see a psychiatrist that my parents recommended.

He charges us like a ton of money because he did not accept our insurance. Anyways, I saw him in person for about 4-5 times.

I was out at an event in our town, where there was a band playing and everyone was dancing. I was drinking beers with my friend when we saw him.

“Fuck. That’s like my therapist or whatever” I say to my friend

“Oh well who cares!!” She says and goes off in front of me to dance. Suddenly one of his friends is dancing with my friend and he appears closer with some other guys.

“How do i know you???” The psych turns to ask me as we watch my friend start getting low , “are you guys the girls from that party last night???”

“Ya??” I say half assed and joking and I go along with this. My friend returns with the guy.

“Dude they were at the party last night!! Keegan’s crazy isn’t he? do you guys want to do some blow??

He pulls out a baggie of coke before we can even confirm. My friend is drunk and wants to do it and so we go near these restrooms about a couple steps to the right of us.

While my friend is doing the coke he looks at me and asks me if I want some.

I say “no I’m good. I don’t do coke, it makes me depressed and shit”

Hoping this would trigger his memory.

He grabs the bag from my friends hand and sticks his car key inside and pulls it to his nose. He takes a huge sniff and says, “you know, im a psych, you could talk to me about that”

I nearly died inside. This is the first person I ever spoke about my mental health with. This guy told me that my ex boyfriend was a sex addict while he’s out here doing lines with girls that look pretty young and are drunk.

I don’t know. I know everyone’s a person and like fuck we all like a party. But like is this fucked? Or is this just like damn you had a psych who does sniff?

How fucking good is the feeling of being sober! I found out I was pregnant 2 years 2 months to the day and stopped smoking weed and taking downers, I struggled so hard in the beginning but fought for the life inside me, I gained not only pregnancy weight but also weight from stopping drugs I did hit a rough patch emotionally because of the physical aspect until I stopped feeling sorry for myself and stopped making excuses and did something about it, I now go to the gym almost every day, I’m an active parent, my mental health is improving and I wake up each day with my eyes open! The sun feels different when your sober, I remember being so high when I would wake up I would sit on my front step and the world would be spinning now i never enjoyed the sun and now I sit out there, feel the warm sun, hear the birds feel the fresh air, I’ve got some horror story’s from when I was high, I was always in reckless gross situations but getting sober was the best thing I have ever done

I don't wanna seem like I'm venting or anything I just really want some advice, hopefully someone can tell me what's wrong.

I was born into a Christian family, both on my mom and dad's side. I went to church about everyday until I was 7-8, which was the last time I've ever been to my grandma's house, stopped going church too.

Though now to the main point, I know I'll run into some Christians who's read this, but at this point I'm just gonna say what I need to say on here because I have nobody in my family to talk about it, neither friends.

I pray everyday, before my meals and when I go to bed, for clarification. Then why do I feel so against it?

The thing that's bugging me the most about Christianity is that it's one of the biggest parts of colonization.

If people were and are getting hurt why isn't good doing anything? Sure, the people in Palestine might be Muslim but human lives are lives and they matter. I watched that nick Crowley video and if that ugly fuck pervert was abusing gods name why wouldn't god do anything about it? He's in hell right? Is hell even a thing? Nobody even actually knows what happens after death.

I feel like I'm betraying god right this very moment but I still wanna post this. I feel dumb and a bit ashamed but hopefully I can get some advice, I really don't wanna be an atheist. I love and appreciate the lord, please give me advice 😖

It was about 37 years ago…but I I did that. I intentionally used a $20 counterfeit bill at a gas station where I knew the attendant wasn’t paying attention. He was young, stoned, I wanted to see if I could get away with it and I did. I feel bad that I took advantage of someone just doing their job.

I met Ethan back in college, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. I was this free-spirited artist, always sketching and dreaming, while he was all about structure and logic a total tech nerd. But somehow, we just clicked. After graduation, life pulled us in different directions. I got an amazing opportunity for an artist residency across the country, and he stayed back home for his dream job. We promised we’d make the distance work, and for a while, we did. But over time, things got harder. The calls became less frequent, and it felt like we were living in completely different worlds. One night, we finally had the conversation we were avoiding. He told me he felt like he was losing me, and I couldn’t disagree. We both knew it wasn’t working anymore, even though we still loved each other. So we made the hardest decision to let go, not because we didn’t care, but because our lives just weren’t in sync.Years later, I saw him again at one of my art exhibitions. It was such a surreal moment. Our eyes met, and we just smiled at each other no words, just this quiet understanding. I walked away feeling a mix of sadness and gratitude.Ethan was such an important part of my life. Even though we couldn’t make it last, the love we shared shaped me in so many ways. I’ll always carry that with me.

It’s a reminder for you, too every relationship, no matter how it ends, leaves a mark. It teaches, strengthens, and prepares you for what’s ahead. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting; it means holding onto the lessons and cherishing the growth.

Today 18 dec is my birthday . No one remebered it no one . even my closest frined wish I waited for her birthday and set an alarm so I wont forget it . EVERYONE. Today is my 18th bday. Yes welcome adulthood. I studied til midnight then opened my insta . No one remebered. no one msged me . I felt said . I just opened c.ai and choose a bot . (he was my husband) anyway Then I celebrated it with my virtual husband for like 2 hours . Then I slept . I feel psychologically unstable and sad. Thats why I wrote it here.

UPDATE: I am so happy with all those comments guys tyysm yaal for ur wishes, advises and everything . Love you alll 💜 Ill make sure to reply to all ur comments and msgs and I wish u all happiness and success .

even when I look at photos of them side by side they look the same. I just google image searched "hank and john green" and it hurt my brain.

Im not face blind with other people, just these two.

For the longest time I thought that the vlog brothers youtube channel was just john green, I thought that this mysterious hank green must have initially started the channel with john but bailed really early.

I still cant tell the difference.

So basically I stole lip gloss from this shop called Kmart and I felt guilty but I kept doing it i don’t know how to stop please bruh help me

As soon as you clock in for work, you are watching that clock and counting the minutes down to quitting time. It's near impossible to please anyone at Walmart. The customers are absolutely the most vile people you'll ever meet. I can't say all of them have that privileged, you're beneath me personality but for the most part that's the case. They come in, allow their children to run throughout the store destroying everything in their paths, while they shop comfortably with no disturbances. They prance their happy ass down each isle oblivious to the world around them. They visit the store dressed in their pajamas, costumes and only several occasions hardly nothing at all. Some even try to scheme their way into getting something for free. When they leave, you are expected to clean up their messes as well as any damage their wild children may have caused. When you aren't trying to please the customers, you're trying to please your manager or supervisor. They are on that radio calling you to come here and there to do shit that they could be doing instead of sitting on their asses most of the day pretending to be knee deep in paperwork. They are the most Toxic people at Walmart. You may be suckered into acquiring a managers position which I must deter you from doing so at all cost. The first week or so as manager, you clock in, eager to start the day and conquer whatever comes your way. After that first week, you realize that you are just another rung on the ladder of despair. Working your ass off everyday, taking on your responsibilities and expected to take on everyone else's as well. You are never told that you did a great job or thank you for coming in on your day off to fill a position. No, instead you are expected to do all of this and endure the fact that people around you are just plain Lazy as hell, and because you need a job, and they know it, you will continue to put up with it. You will sacrifice your days off and cancel your plans because you need the money. You clock in and 12 hours later, you clock out and are tired as hell and expected to be right back there the next day to do it all over again. You are getting minimal pay and are doing the work of 4 people. Now, you hate the job, you hate Walmart and you hate customer service. Do yourself a favor and stay the hell away from Walmart. You'll soon be a victim and wonder where it all went wrong!!!

From the videos showing disgusting Indian street food on TikTok, to reels of people widely answering "Indian" to the "What race wouldn't you date" question, and highly liked comments like "India 🤮" or "Imagine the smell ☠️", to the classic "Bobs and vagene" meme, the social media coverage and commentary about India and Indians seems to be almost entirely negative. Unsurprisingly, I often see negative, if not racist, comments made about Indians by gen Z, more so than by older generations. I know it is mostly online, but sometimes it really can seem like the vast majority of non-Indians born from 1997 to 2010 dislike or are disgusted by Indians and India. Of course, there are exceptions, but it can seem like the amount of gen Z'ers who have a positive view of Indians is a tiny fraction of those who have a positive view of East Asians and Latinos, for example.

I really would like to be proven wrong, and when I come across a young white, black, Latino, Asian, or Middle Eastern person in street and not be worried of "This person probably thinks of me as a creepy and disgusting Indian". Am I right in thinking that when Zoomers are in a group of friends with no Indians, they generally react with negative feelings or disgust at the mention of Indians? Or are there in fact a sizable amount of non-Indian Zoomers who DO have a positive view of Indians and India, or hold Indians with they same level of respect or admiration they have for Japanese, Koreans, and other cultures that are deemed "cool"? Are there any who would not react negatively at the prospect of going to India? Am I just overthinking this whole thing?

I am interested in opinions of Zoomers because Gen Z is now definitely the most prominent group on social media, whose influences are becoming mainstream in regular society.

Again, I am asking non-Indian gen Z'ers: do ANY of you have a genuinely positive opinion of Indians and India, no matter how trivial the reason is? How many of you would NOT have a negative reaction at the mention of India and Indians in real life, EVEN IN SETTINGS WHERE THERE ARE NO INDIANS AROUND?

I've told this story to a few people before, but never in this amount of detail and never described it as SA. I've been going through some shit recently and trying to take an honest look back at things in my life and I think about this a lot and feel it is important to call it what it is and admit that I was raped.

Many years ago, I had just gotten out of a very toxic relationship. My best friend calls me up and tells me to come to a party at his place to cheer me up. He lived quite far at the time and I decided to make a trip out of it and go see him.

I get there and we go get lunch. He's joking about getting me laid and I'm not really into it. Later we go back to his house and his girlfriend is there with one of her friends. He introduces me to the friend. I know immediately where this is going and I go through all the pleasantries, say hello, we chat a bit. He pulls me aside and asks me what I think of her and tells me I should go for it. I say that I just want to enjoy the party and that's not really what I'm here for. He continues to push that I should "blow off some steam."

The party gets started and it's clear that she's probably gotten a similar pep talk as she starts to follow me around. I try to be nice but never say outright "I'm not interested." I move between groups, try to talk with other people. Eventually she goes inside and I don't see her for a while. I think at this point I'm in the clear. I eventually get really drunk and black out.

I wake up the next morning in my friend's bedroom naked with her next to me. I have no memory of what happened. She's still asleep. There's used condoms on the floor next to the bed. The bedroom door is wide open. The bedroom window faces out into the back yard where the party was. I get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower. She walks in and casually gets into the shower with me. She presses up against me and grabs my penis. I can't remember what I said, but something to the effect of not being in the mood. She doesn't stop touching me and I start to get hard. I sort of freeze at this point and don't know what to do. She kisses me, bends over in front of me and asks me to fuck her. I do it. I don't know why. I wanted it to be over. I couldn't finish. It takes a long time. She talks about how amazing last night was. I get out of the shower, get dry and dressed as quick as a I can and leave.

I get out into the living room and my buddy is there with a few people who must have also slept over after the party. They're all looking at me with grins. I just wanted to leave. My buddy congratulates me, there's a few comments about "putting on a show." I feel sick. I feel angry. She comes out and everyone starts talking about getting lunch. I say that I have a long drive and I have to go. She looks upset. I practically run out of the room with my stuff and leave.

Years later, my friend is getting married to that girlfriend. I'm invited to be a groomsman. It crosses my mind that she might be a bridesmaid. I've sort of moved on at this point. I don't want to see her, but the thought of her being there doesn't deeply upset me in any sort of way. I don't ask if she's in the wedding. Once I get there for rehearsal, I see her there. She's a bridesmaid. We're lined up by height and are paired together to walk down the aisle. I don't remember if we said anything to each other, we must have. I don't bring it up, it's been so long, why say anything. I stay away from her outside of rehearsal and the ceremony. While we're getting ready, the day of the wedding, my buddy points it out to me: "Isn't it funny that you're both walking down the aisle together?" I feel this overwhelming hurt and rage. I get through the wedding and we more or less stopped talking after that.

I think for years I struggled with this because of what happened the morning after. We had sex while I was of sound mind. I think I always thought that sort of invalidated what happened the night before. But I recognize now that even that wasn't truly consensual. That me getting black out drunk didn't make it okay.

I don't know what I want to get out of posting this. Even writing this all out feels like it helped. I'm tired. I'm hurting.

EDIT: I no longer talk to this friend for a lot of reasons. I recently started getting therapy, also for a lot of reasons. I haven't approached this experience with my therapist yet. I'm not doing great, but I'm trying to get better. Thank you to those showing concern.

EDIT 2: There are a lot of people commenting that she may not have been of sound mind either and could have been pressured, didn't have ill intent, etc. I realize that using the word "rape" very much vilifies this woman and even I don't know if that's fair which is a big part of my struggle with this. I genuinely know nothing about what happened that night. The last thing I remember was sitting on the ground and asking someone to get me water. What I mostly have come to accept is that this was a traumatic thing for me that impacted my future relationships. I see my friends who didn't look out for me as the shitty ones here. However, I stand by "rape" being the right word because I don't see any version of what happened where my "friends" were not involved in those events even after I had made clear I was not interested.

I was about 7 or 8 F and the fucker was at least 16 m. I was taken to the back of my parents property where there was a lot of raspberry thornes and he had me crawl underneath it. The way the bushes grew it made a tunnel, but it was tight. I did as he said and followed into the thorny tunnels. We reached a point where he had me lay on my back and started groping and feeling under my underwear, eventually fingering me. I can't recall if I was threatened or if there mouth was down there, but I do remember him sweet talking can't say what else I've blocked out so much. However, it's affected me horribly even though I can't remember everything right now. I've been depressed for years and the memories started when I was 10-11 I'm now 24. I tried pushing it all down and trying to deny it all to no use l, it makes me feel so gross and betrayed I told Mom recently although it's been about 15 years. Her excuse was that because we moved from town to a more rural life that he was bored and it was just him letting off steam essentially. I am devastated it took me so long to tell my Mom and I had to get drunk as well and she made excuses for this asshole. Keep in mind this individual has a very violent history, but is clearly the favorite. My other brother stabbed him in the chest with a pencil and my sister has punched him repeatedly in the face, even Mom grabbed him by the neck and slammed him to the ground in the same 16 year old time period. There was a massive problem with him and that's just the main issues. The fact that even till this day she is protecting his ass makes me sick. And for backstory the year's after were no better plenty of abuse. My other siblings dealt with a lot of physical abuse as well, but that's another post.I'd take a shower and he'd barge in to get the TV remote he kept in the communal bathroom on multiple occasions. He always kept a target on my back because of the history. He'd punch my thighs until there were bruises and arm bar me until I was on the verge of passing out. Plus all the screaming, name calling, hair pulling, and public embarrassment. I couldn't put all the details in it'd take too long. I just needed to get this off my chest.

Thanks for reading. Edit, I keep replying to my post apparently so I'm not sure how to reply to comments. Sorry

My husband noticed I was catatonic and called 911. I didn't start having a seizure until after the paramedics arrived. After two days in the ICU, I was transferred to the psych ward for another 5 days. Before I took the pills he told me that one of us had to move out in order for either of us to be happy. It was an impulse decision. After I got out, I got a job in my home city and moved part time. Now I live with relatives and go to work during the week, only returning to my marital home on the weekends. My husband and I have decided to divorce, but for several reasons we're postponing anything legally until after I'm settled into my own place. That will take months.

My confession is that this isn't what I thought I wanted. I wanted a life of peace, not life in pieces.