Rainey family funeral home cordele ga

New to the group here is my shitshow of a life.

2023.06.02 22:52 Grand-Bid6471 New to the group here is my shitshow of a life.

So its been a hell of a decade for me yall... I got out of the army in early 2013 fresh after a combat mission to afganistan where i sustained a head injury and a lifetime worth of trauma and ptsd.. during the last deployment i was engaged to my stbx and ended up breaking the engagement off while i was there because i honestly didnt know if I was going to make it back alive after a freind died from an ied blast, it was easier for me to dedicate myself to rage and getting revenge... I got back stateside and we got back together and went on to eventually gettting engaged again. Of course with a much bigger ring and all the crow i could ever want to eat. I also had a raging addiction to pain pills and anxiety meds for a few years post exiting millitary.. so there was that .. def not easy to put up with from her side.. about 6 years ago i got clean (totally straight edge) changed my life, no more pills, no more alcohol, got 2 degrees and a good job, got into stellar shape. I did everything in my power to make this woman happy and make up for all of my royal fuck ups. It was my mission to make good on all the empty promises and let downs. I am proud to say that i did however im afraid it may have already been to late..I went to war with my former self and walked through all of my pain and struggle for this woman and i love her for that because i needed thatduring that phase of my life. We ended up getting married 2 years ago now 2021. Honestly looking back it was a band aid type marriage as we had a rough go for many years despite having everything we needed and damn near everything we wanted. Money dosent buy happiness however.
So, 3-4 months ago we found out she was pregnant.. I was over joyed even though we really hadnt been getting along because, well, hope.. she took the news hard and it really left me confused still does. She was excited in some ways but with all the hormones, and having already accepted kids were not in the cards for heus, because of fertility issues (hers) which i was able to accept and move on from but i know she was completely overwhelmed.. She has treated me like total shit since, low key angry with me because i got her pregnant. I absorb her abuse and coldness and try to do the next right thing mostly because she had done this for me during my time of struggle.
On april 21st i found out my younger brother 32 died in my mothers house of an accidental fentanyl overdose and she found him... this killed me guys, to my stbx credit she was there for me and my family all the way. However upon returning home after a week up north for the funeral it went right back to the same old shit cycle where i just kind of eat it for my sake do what she says and then move on.this actually used to work but it seems as if theres just no more happiness to be had.
today i fucking had enough.. after listening to her kick things around and talk to herself out loud so i could hear, as she tried to paint the nursery which is a room we use as storage and is admittedly a little cluttered in there I kind of threatened divorce. I was hoping when i mentioned divorce she would snap to. That was dumb af, and it went the other way she asked me please. At this i lost my shit.. I feel so insignificant and i feel as if everything i put into this relationship was for nothing. I do and do and do expecting nothing in return which is the humble thing to do but it shouldnt be like that in a relationship. I could do house hold chores for 12 hours and she will come home and see that sock on the floor or dish in the sink and all of the sudden its a reason to not be grateful or show any appreciation whatsoever. I feel like i am being taken advantage of as i pay 80% of the bills and have done 95% of the work that went into making our house a beautiful home. I was optimisitc and hoping this was a phase but it is just capitulating everyday and i am startng to fall into a serious depression and i am realizing that divorce is most likely the only option.
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2023.06.02 21:23 Artsfromtheheart Teenage Love

There is so much I want to say to you. I love you and I miss you more than anything. Even after everything you put me through. I sit at home with our 4 month old daughter while you’re out on the streets with your new girlfriend. Your mom still texts me everyday to ask how our baby girl is doing and if I need anything. I really wanted to be with you. I lost myself trying to heal you. But, I still lost you. I’m waiting for the day I get the call that you’re no longer with us. I’m waiting to walk up to your casket, crying. I have so much I need to tell you before you pass. You broke me but I am building myself slowly. I changed myself completely since we’ve been together. I don’t want to be the same girl you lied to, manipulated, raped, hit on or yelled at. I loved you and you loved me at one point too. Until the drugs took over who you are now. Even if we never talk again or see each other again, i’d like to see you happy and clean. After seeing you overdose, it has really messed with me. I lost a lot of respect and feel so sad for you now. Especially knowing you did it on purpose so i’d see you like that. You traumatized me. But, i’m still not broken completely. This new guy i’m with loves me to pieces but i still find myself thinking about you. I still find myself getting sad over thinking about you or what you’re up to. I still ask your mom how you’ve been. Shit happened and changed so fast. You always felt like i’d be right there and right back with you. In the end it feels like it was my loss when it was really yours. You lost me and you lost the chance of ever seeing your daughter again. That little girl loved you too and she loved seeing you. I’m so stressed and it’s not fair. I’m 16, taking care of our 4 month old by myself. Working my ass off and completed school. You dropped out, living in a trap house and you’re on drugs. You have not a care in the world. I really really tried being with you. I wanted to marry you, dude. But i left the man i loved for the man i deserved. He brings me flowers and surprises me with coffee and my favorite food/drinks and he helps me out without even asking. He does it without having done something wrong. The only time you ever bought me anything was when you relapsed or cheated on me. I really loved your family too. They still love me and your sister still comes to hangout. But it’s just sad to me. You’ll never straighten up and we will never be “us” again. A year and a half of my life wasted on somebody who didn’t really want me. I wish I was your side chick because I wouldn’t have had to deal with all of you shit. i wish i would’ve left you sooner or when you went to jail. I was so stupid but i still stupidly miss you so fuckin much. You were my best friend and you knew everything about me. It fucking sucks. I truly wish you the best on your journey going forward and i hope that i don’t have to attend your funeral. You just turned 18, you have sm more life ahead of you. I love you and I care about you so much. I hope things get better and i’ll keep thuggin it out. hopefully we talk again.
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2023.06.02 21:04 KKshilling The Cost of Greatness

The Cost of Greatness
What will be the blood sacrifice on your altar of ambition?
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https://preview.redd.it/2fr6117hkn3b1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=eaa2486f82f618903d085eb59a1aa8bb9819a7b8
I can’t tell you how bad I want it. Some days I wake up aflame. There is electricity crackling down my knuckles, an urgent rhythm pounded into the keys as I type. A river of creation flows out of me as I revel in the act of making. Other days, I mostly eat pretzels. I meander from task to task, completely content with being dead center of the bell curve.
I can’t even tell you what “it” is. Some days I want to be the tech writer. Matt Levine will tremble. Ben Thompson’s email list will be torn asunder. I will be read and admired and praised. Other days I wake up disgusted by what yesterday’s Evan did.
Why did I write till 1 in the morning rather than spending time with my wife? I want to be great, yes, but I also want to be a great husband and son. There is a reason why lots of creatives struggle with addiction, or why many investors I know are on their third spouse. Money and power never come cheap. The only great I should want is a great life.
Perhaps you have felt similar confusion. You also want to be great. (Hopefully you’re saner than me and want to be great at something other than writing.) But still, you listen to that siren song of more.
As life forces priorities to shift, so does your personal definition of what constitutes great. There is a tension; the longer you remain committed to a single cause of greatness, the more incapable you become of being good enough at everything else.
This terrible cost is most obvious in the people who have ascended to the heights of our society. The HBO series Succession, which recently ended, showed it beautifully—for those unfamiliar, it follows Logan Roy and his four kids as they jockey to inherit the multibillion-dollar media empire Logan created.
(Beware, spoilers ahead.)
For me, the climax of the series is the penultimate episode—the funeral of Logan Roy. There, each of the children wrestle with their grief. The youngest son, Roman, collapses mid-eulogy with remorse. The eldest son, Connor, gets sidelined as he has been his whole life. But Kendall, the heir apparent, gives a speech that, my oh my, did something to me. Kendall was abused, degraded, and humiliated by his father. Logan beat Roman, committed Connor’s mother to an asylum, was misogynistic toward his daughter, Shiv, and was generally an evil, vile man. Despite all that, the company he built was great. In the eulogy he gives, Kendall grapples with his father’s legacy:
“My father was a brute. He was. He was tough. But, also, he built and he acted. And there are many people out there who will always tell you no. And there are a thousand reasons, there always are a thousand reasons to not act. But he was never one of those. He had a vitality, a force...that could hurt...and it did. But my God, the sheer, the...the... I mean, look at it. The lives, and the livings, and the things that he made…I mean, great geysers of life he willed. Of buildings he made stand. Of ships, steel hulls. Amusements, newspapers, shows, and films, and life. Bloody, complicated life. He made life happen. He made me and my three siblings. And yes, he had a terrible force to him. And a fierce ambition that could push you to the side.
But it was only that...that human thing. The will to be, and to be seen, and to do. And now people might want to tend and prune the memory of him to denigrate that force. That magnificent, awful force of him, but my God, I hope it's in me.” (emphasis added)
From the moment I first watched this speech, I have had the phrase “my God, I hope it’s in me” rattle through me. Despite Logan’s litany of sins, despite the abuse he heaped upon his children, Kendall hoped to inherit his father’s greatness.
A similar speech will be given at the eventual funerals of our current ruling elites. At Bill Gates' service they will not mention the Jeffrey Epstein connections, only the work his charity did. Mark Zuckerberg’s service will be attended by men festooned with medals, but there will be little mention of his partial responsibility for the genocide in Myanmar. Murdoch, Musk, Jobs—all of these powerful and great people who reshape our world. Maybe these individuals' greatness outweighs their personal complications, but still, they did not ascend without significant costs.
In my own life, my father was an inverse Logan. He was steadily climbing at Fortune 150 corporations, but after missing one too many of my baseball games, he left. He spent the rest of his career taking good, secure jobs that let him be home in time for dinner. He is and was an incredible dad, but he never ascended to the greatness that was promised in his former career. To him, that trade-off was worth it. Being a great family man is what mattered.
On a recent fishing trip to the Florida Everglades, as we drifted among the gnarled groves of mangrove trees, I asked my dad what his biggest career regret was. His answer surprised me: “I wish I had started my own company.” He always felt like he had the ability to follow in the family tradition (my grandfather was a 4th-grade dropout who built his own business) but never did. He sacrificed that ambition so he could provide a good, consistent life for me and my mom. I love him for his willingness to be a great dad.
My God, I hope that desire is in me. When the time comes for me to choose, I pray I’m able to pick my family like my father did. I hope I do not walk the path of Logan.
But I am afraid I will. I am afraid because in both Kendall and my dad I find inspiration. Despite all the evidence I’ve seen in my own life, I still somehow delude myself that I can have it all.
There is even more to be afraid of. There is a fear that committing myself to the cause of greatness, to being all that I think I can be, will turn me into something I now dislike. Because greatness is so malleable, I worry that “being great” eventually destroys who I am.
In the world of content, the pursuit of greatness manifests as those folks who prostitute themselves to traffic, who helplessly careen from trend to trend, desperate in their desire for virality. In startups, the same can be said of those who shift from Web3 to AI to bootstrapping to whatever will be trendy in a month.
Greatness is not measurable. It is not quantifiable. I’m not even sure it is definable. But still we desire it. Be aware, it is a devourer resting within us. What we choose to feed it determines what kind of great we will be.
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2023.06.02 20:36 incomprehensibilitys How to be a Mormon In 73 easy steps. .. Salt Lake Tribune

  1. Never use the word “Mormon” in describing anything Mormon. Doing so is a win for Satan.
  2. Drink no coffee, tea or alcohol.
  3. Eat meat sparingly. (Actually, scratch that. It’s in the Word of Wisdom, but no one pays attention to it anyway, so bring on the burgers. You’re going to need to keep your strength up for keeping all the other rules.)
  4. Eat a lot of vegetables and fruits in their season. And, yes, funeral potatoes totally count as a vegetable.
  5. Go to church every Sunday, even when you’re on vacation. God gives you extra credit for this.
  6. Accept any callings offered by the bishop. (But see also No. 40.)
  7. Attend the temple once a month at the very least. Always keep a valid temple recommend.
  8. Do your monthly visiting teaching/home teaching. Er, ministering.
  9. Send out a homemade holiday gift and card/letter to neighbors.
  10. Never use a curse word. If you need a library of faux swear options, watch “Napoleon Dynamite” multiple times and absorb its vocabulary.
  11. Do family history work (genealogy) for your ancestors.
  12. Show up for moving other people in and out of your ward. Lift with your legs! And keep plenty of ibuprofen on hand.
  13. Sign up to bring meals to the sick or otherwise needy. These must be home-cooked. No KFC allowed!
  14. Feed the missionaries — hefty portions. You don’t want emaciated elders or sisters around.
  15. Volunteer to clean the church/temple when the sign-up sheet goes around. Remember to wear clothes you can get dirty in. You’re keeping the church clean, not yourself.
  16. Attend ward activities like the Christmas party, the summer swim party, back-to-school parties, etc.
  17. Hold a weekly Family Home Evening with your children. No crying allowed, from either parents or children!
  18. Teach your children to do chores happily. (Good luck with this.)
  19. Be grateful, even for your trials. Trials are really blessings in disguise. Also, they make great fodder for tearful testimonies in the future.
  20. Keep a year’s supply of food in your basement, even if you never eat any of it. The family with the most wheat wins.
  21. Do regular disaster planning with your kids, from fire drills to flood plans. You can never be too prepared for the end of days.
  22. Know how to make important knots with rope. No one knows why this matters, but it does.
  23. Learn how to build a fire without a match.
  24. Know the stories of your pioneer ancestors, if you have them, to tell your children on Pioneer Day. (Don’t worry about the gruesome details — kids will love them!)
  25. Invite nonmembers to attend church meetings and activities. Repeatedly.
  26. Read the Sunday school and auxiliary lesson each week, so you can participate in lessons. But don’t monopolize the teacher, even if you’re the only one who prepared.
  27. Figure out how to use beans in fudge making and wheat in chili-making.
  28. Help with local fundraising activities for the youths, like allowing them to put a flag in your yard even if they break your sprinkler system.
  29. God expects you to be happy.
  30. Play “wholesome” games as a family. (Yes, Monopoly counts. The prophet Ezra Taft Benson taught that capitalism is holy, so it’s best to start ’em young.)
  31. Donate to Sub for Santa or other Christmas charities as a ward/stake.
  32. But don’t tell the children that Santa isn’t real.
  33. Sing in the ward choir, even if you don’t sing well, because you can make a “joyful sound.”
  34. Do NOT NOT NOT have sex before marriage — no making out, either. In fact, just try not to think about sex at all.
  35. Root for BYU against the University of Utah — “bleed blue.”
  36. Get your daughters to babysit for poor ward members for free.
  37. Go on weekly dates with your spouse.
  38. Don’t steal from the ward’s library or lost and found. (Return your crayons and chalk, dammit!)
  39. Repent whenever you accidentally use a swear word, as I just did in violation of Rule No. 38.
  40. Friends don’t let friends get called into the nursery.
  41. Toddlers get only Cheerios in sacrament meeting. (No Capn’ Crunch or you’ll make the other toddlers jealous.)
  42. Submit Primary children’s drawings as art for the ward bulletin, even if you can’t tell what it is.
  43. Eat “better than sex” chocolate cake.
  44. Drink sparkle punch.
  45. Participate in Eagle Scout projects no matter how stupid you think they are.
  46. Have a favorite church hymn — preferably the same as one of the prophet’s.
  47. Watch out for Gadianton robbers. Also, MLM schemes.
  48. Know how to cook a marshmallow properly to make s’mores. They’re practically a Mormon invention.
  49. Be able to make seven kinds of Jell-O salad, at least one with carrots.
  50. Save seats in a theateamusement park where it’s not allowed, but do it politely.
  51. Make sure you know how to make funeral potatoes. (Hint: with cornflakes!)
  52. Drink root beer or milk if you are ever forced to be in a bar.
  53. Turn regularly to sugar, in huge quantities, as your only vice.
  54. Keep all church buildings at refrigerator temperatures year-round because men are in full suits and ties.
  55. Drive to church no matter how close you live.
  56. Go on a mission the moment you hit the requisite birthday.
  57. Don’t go to the grocery store on the Sabbath. If you absolutely must, though, do it in another town so no one from your ward sees you.
Women 58. Do feminine crafts like knitting, crocheting and quilting.
  1. Learn how to bake bread, cook meals cheaply, and can foods. Bonus points if you grow the foods in your own garden.
  2. Wear makeup, because even an old barn looks good with a little paint on it.
  3. Do not nurse at church except in the mother’s lounge in the women’s bathroom, which will also be where children’s dirty diapers are changed and disposed of. But modesty!
  4. Attend monthly Relief Society meetings.
  5. Decorate your house with Relief Society kitsch.
  6. No porn shoulders.
  7. Don’t slam your purse or talk in a shrill tone.
  8. Be able to sew pioneer bonnets, dresses, aprons, etc., in bulk at a day’s notice.
  9. Don’t chew gum in church (according to my mother — it’s not ladylike).
  10. You can have up to one ear piercing per God’s instructions. Getting double-pierced ears is beyond the pale, so don’t push it.
Men 69. Sacrament must be administered and passed by young men in white shirts, only using their right hands. The patterns may vary from ward to ward, but are secret and only for men to know.
  1. Do not shed tears in any scenario ever, except during testimony meeting, when it is 100% acceptable for you to cry.
  2. Don’t abuse your children or your wife — except with dad jokes, which you may pile on freely.
  3. Do play church ball hard enough to get injured or injure someone else. Unless someone winds up in the hospital, the Spirit hasn’t spoken strongly enough.
  4. Facial hair was fine for Jesus but not for you. The clean-cut look is definitely the Mormon, er, Latter-day Saint look. Oh, and man buns are flat out.
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2023.06.02 20:01 Flimsy_Aioli412 My ex treated me terribly and now his life is amazing and I'm still alone and miserable.

he:
wasted my 'best' years
tricked me into thinking we'd get married (by getting engaged, planning a wedding etc)
gave 0 warning that there were any issues
cheated when I went to my home country for my dad's funeral
dumped me via text a couple of days before I was due to fly back
eventually gave a list of reasons that it 'wouldn't work' via text, none of which made sense. all about not being ready for kids, needing to be single to find himself etc.
refused to discuss these reasons
wouldn't let me in to the apartment when I got back
I had to stay in a hotel for 2 weeks until he left the apartment
he didn't even see me again, last time I saw him he was helping me process my dad's passing and waiting with me at the airport
I still loved him so thought he was having a bit of a mental break (his family agreed) and I waited for him to come back
It turns out he cheated on me while I was away
He moved in with her when he moved out of our place
He got promoted at work
Started posting her all over social media when he was 'private' with me
She already had a kid (remember he wasn't ready for kids)
He proposed 6 months after dumping me
Had a baby with her 7 months after that
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and me? I still live in the apartment we rented together, the landlady took pity and gave me reduced rent, I can't afford else anything even close to this.
It's been almost two years (therapy the whole time) and I haven't had a single good relationship.
Every guy I meet seems to sense that I have problems even though I think I fixed them
I'd never been cheated on until this guy, but two guys have cheated on me since
Others lie about what they want etc.
I never questioned my judgement before I dated him.
Now I constantly do it.
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I thought I was over it, I know I'm over him, but I'm really not over the unfairness of it all. Why does he get to be happy after what he did to me?
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I'm scared that I won't find anyone.
submitted by Flimsy_Aioli412 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 19:16 Otherwise_Win_3995 My boyfriends best friend hit on me

I have a problem and I’m a little stuck here, just looking for some more opinions that are completely unbiased.
I have been with my boyfriend for a few months and I have been very happy. He’s moving into an apartment in the next couple days with his friend we’ll call Evan, and a girl he met at the gym.
The problem lies with Evan. I met Evan for the first time a few weeks ago and he was nice enough. It was myself, my boyfriend, Evan, and his newly broken up with ex-girlfriend Holly. I followed him on Instagram after we met up, as my boyfriend eventually wants me to move in with them. I can’t right now due to work restrictions but it is possible in the future. Since I’ll be visiting my boyfriend at the apartment often, I figured it would be wise to make at least a basic friendship with him. Soon after, he sent a message. I immediately felt something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I told my boyfriend, to which he said it was okay to touch base and be friendly since Evans been his best friend since 3rd grade (we are all 20).
I continued a brief, friendly conversation to which Evan turned into a flirty and even sexual interaction. He sexualized my race and flirted with me right off the bat, to which I did not reciprocate and called him weird. I immediately told my boyfriend, letting him read the entire conversation so he had all the context. My boyfriend was about a week and a half out from moving in, and had already signed the lease with Evan and the girl from the gym.
My boyfriend was very obviously hurt, crushed even. It was about 11:45/midnight when all this happened. I showed him everything, and he texted Evan. All my boyfriend said in the initial text was “Hey Evan” to which Evan responded immediately saying “I’m so sorry, can we call”. My boyfriend went upstairs to call him and I stayed downstairs playing video games while he did.
A little while later he came back and said Evan told him he had “20 shots” worth of alcohol and that he lost someone in his family. I smelled bullshit immediately. Who on earth has a loved one pass and says “boohoo me im gonna hit on my friends girlfriend”???? I’m a funeral director and know quite a bit about grief. He then claimed he “didn’t know” he was talking to me which is also a crock of shit, given that he was immediately guilty when my boyfriend only texted “Hey Evan”. My boyfriend fully believes this sob story.
We went to bed at about 2am and agreed to tell his parents in the morning to talk about pulling out of the lease. When we spoke to his parents, they said that his grief and drunkenness had placed him in a “different state of mind” and that he didn’t know what he was doing. In that moment I had never felt so invalid. My boyfriend, further influenced by his parents, told me the other day that he has a “gut instinct” that his friend Evan really didn’t know it was me that he was hitting on and that he would have done XYZ if he actually knew and believes that his friend made an honest mistake. Evan stated that he was “texting a lot of girls” so it wasn’t a targeted thing.
I sat there and just burst into tears. How can he sit there and absolutely invalidate everything i literally had real evidence for? How does he trust him more than me? I know he’s known him longer than me, but I showed every single morsel of evidence that I had. He had none to back up any of his claims.
A few days later, my boyfriend sent me an “apology” Evan wrote me, as I’ve blocked Evan on everything. The apology was not only 5000+ words long, it was ridden with excuses that didn’t check out, blaming me, and saying that I was insensitive about his family loss. The insensitive part got to me so I used my connections in funeral service to look for anyone who had arranged recently for his family to help them out as I felt bad. Come to find out; every funeral home in the area had not heard of him. He said he lived down the street from said relative who passed, so it wasn’t being done in a different state. I was so livid.
I keep being ignored and cut down and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m so angry that I’m constantly being invalidated, and I don’t want to make this about me because it’s my boyfriend that was really hurt, but it hurts me so much that he’s allowing this to slide. What do I do?
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2023.06.02 18:35 CaveFlavored Is the pay really this bad, or is it me?

I recently started working in a funeral home as an allround worker. I have no specific education for it, and I’m getting trained on the job.
Currently I’m mainly doing admin and design, but am also getting trained on preparation and working with the families (no papers needed where I live).
I love it! I love working with the families, I love doing something meaningful, and I especially love making someone’s passing meaningful and loving rather than just painful.
The pay though is similar to unemployment benefits in my country.. That seems insane to me.
I came from an extremely highly paid job, and started doing this because I always wanted to but there’s no way I can do this fulltime at the pay it’s at.
Is the industry really this badly paid? Or is it because I am still training? I’m in Western Europe btw.
submitted by CaveFlavored to askfuneraldirectors [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 16:41 Thingstodo919 Things to do this weekend!

FRIDAY
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SATURDAY
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SUNDAY
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Join the Thingstodo919 email list here for a weekly events newsletter. Doing anything interesting this weekend? Let us know your plans in the comments!
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2023.06.02 16:37 Jv_waterboy 2 years.

2 years ago today I took a chance and a flight to a rehab over a thousand miles away from home. I had a blast, met some great people, and continued to follow the program they set out in front of me.
I've been to countless events... dinners, concerts, funerals, weddings, family gatherings, all without a sip. It can be hard sometimes, but it is well well worth it. I love this sub and you guys and gals.
2 years down, a lifetime to go.
IWNDWYT.
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2023.06.02 15:48 flippenphil (Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

UPDATE: WB killed the Dr. SEUSS code some time in the past 3 weeks sorry
MA = Movies Anywhere
GP = Googleplay
[?] = unknown definition
title = pending trade
If a title is no longer listed = It has been traded
COMBO Films
MOVIES
TV Series Marked
Vudu Only
ITUNES Only
ITUNES Only MOVIES - No Port - Marked
CANADIAN CODES: GOOGLE PLAY / ITUNES MARKED I do not know any of these port
WANT LIST
Titles I am looking for
submitted by flippenphil to uvtrade [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 15:42 depressioniskillin Part 1 of my story, possible end this story short

Mom and dad were happy after the first child Vanessa, 9 miscarriages and 5 years later, I am born. Moved around a bit from what I'm told then mom and dad split over an arguement with him doing drugs. Dad moved when I was around 4/5. Hit or miss to see my dad. But family life was weird, while my life was dark. I loved playing baseball hoping in my mind I could escape but once I broke my hand, I snapped angrly and I quit since I couldnt play. There was also disappointment in alot of it. I never thought I was my best.
(I never understood the reason at that age why my dad wouldnt show up to my games or visit me which caused alot of anger. But in time, I understood why.)
Most of my family are women that babied me and made me mad, but had uncles that I felt were the father figures I needed. They taught me to be tough since I'm the "Man of the House" now. Or to get back up if your knocked down. Mostly helped me to learn different choices for my angry energy. From surfing, skating, boxing, motocross, or cars, anything I wanted to go for.
Then family started falling off. First my Great-grandmother then my Great-grandfather within a couple months. The family was crushed. I'm in about end of summer going into 5th grade. Start the year bummed and seeing sadness from all my family. Go the burials for both and didnt know how to feel at that age about it. I was kinda cold from everything already.
LEARNING PAIN
Until the start of the next year. To which on a calm rainy night, mom got a call and urgently we ran to moms car to go to my aunt's. My uncle had died. It was cold. Even walking into the house it was like ice. It wasnt the warm house I was just in past week. Mom got asked to pick up my other cousin from work. So we jumped in the car. My mom, sister, my cousin (his brother) and me. Aunt called his work and let him off early but he didnt know. I was still in shock. I had no emotion. Didnt even really think about it.
That was until we buried my uncle. That was a rainy dark day. I got up thinking this a different feeling as last time. I then dressed up in my black pants white shirt and red tie as a kid and went to the funeral not believing it was actually happening. We get through most of the service and my cousin, his son, looks at me and puts his hand on my shoulder, and I broke. I sobbed like a toddler that lost his toy.. It was like my uncle saying "dude I'm there, it's ok to cry right now, doesnt make you less of a man". After I got through that I was different. I wasn't me. That same cousin was the one that was the one I hated.
Enduring The Pain
After all that I wasn't ever the same, some times I was happy. Most of the time wasn't. I had a mom who was a alcoholic dating an abusive alcoholic boyfriend. So spent most of my time was spent out of the house trying to just find some glimmer of happiness. I'd try to stay out of the house as much as I could cause coming home was just a battle trying to sleep. No kid should be up till 2 hearing music blasting.
I met a few people with troubled pasts like mine. I wanted friends and found a friend who's dad ended himself. He was a kid who'd felt the same as me. Just left alone to deal with it. We would play with airsoft with like minded kids. His mom wanted him to have friends since the tragedy that happend. She would always be inviting since she would let us play while she was drinking.
First time drinking
Said friend invited us to just have away from the house cause his mom wanted to get out of the house (due to the fact his dad offed himself in the master bedroom.) We go have "vacation" probably 4 miles away and check in to a Red Roof Inn near Knotts Berry Farm. It was a cool trip that wasn't far from home and his mom bought a bottle of vodka for her and and 12pk of Smirnoff Ice variety for us. It was OK tasting but bitter (5th grade me). The over confidence feeling was an amazing feeling when I had 3 of those.
We lost contact after finding out he moved to another country. I had had another person leave feeling like I'm not good enough but in actuality it was his mom's choice to move from that house.
More time alone
Spent the 6th grade year trying to make more friends and finding out the word friend doesn't mean that much. I was bullied by the "cool crew" cause I liked history and class, and never wanted to bash on other kids. One day while walking home (1mile alone) they decided I was the one they wanted to attack.
They decided a kid I knew Adam was the one to try to fight me for him to enter the "crew". He shoved me to the ground and just covered up my face until i was able to get up and run. I had some bruising but want much. Mom told me next time someone touches me, be the one to end the conflict. Win or lose shed be on my side.
Going into Jr High and Continuation School
When getting into jr high I thought it was going to change the social dynamics but not as much as I thought. Registration was ridiculous since 3 different schools collided within one jr high. Lots of new people I've never met and had their own groups. They tried to blend all of us by making a dress code. Khaki or black pants with a collared shirt that's came in 3 different colors (navy, baby blue, or white)
First year was ok meeting new people, knowing I probably I would be the outcast. I was always the guy no one would date and just the funny best friend.
......... need to finish this but I'm opening up.
submitted by depressioniskillin to SuicideWatch [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 14:14 the-third-person Souhait

I’m an artist. Not one you’ve heard of, though that may be changing soon. Being an artist is about creation, not about commercial success. I wouldn’t mind getting the occasional acceptance mixed in with the constant stream of rejection, of course, but it’s a process.
A long process. They say that most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead. I’d always hoped that I’d make it slightly before that.
I graduated last year with an MFA from a relatively prestigious institution, along with a dozen other folks who convinced themselves that an insurmountable pile of debt was the best way to jump right into the starving artist lifestyle. We were, as mentioned, a small class, so we all went to each other’s showings and were generally supportive, but I was only really friends with two of the others, Jerrod and Albina.
The three of us ended up rooming together for the last year of the program, and we kept that going post-graduation. Having other folks in the house who look through the mail with the same mix of hope and trepidation is surprisingly helpful. Alone, it’s easy to simply look at everyone else’s filtered life and assume that you’re the only one failing. When you come down in the morning to find your roommate crying in her cornflakes because her last eleven submissions haven’t even gotten the courtesy of a rejection letter, it’s a little easier to see that this is just how life goes sometimes.
One of our favorite Friday night activities was going to local galleries to see who they had on display. There were a few reasons for this. One, it gave us a good idea of what they liked to show, helping us hone our own submissions. Two, it was very cathartic to be catty about what had been picked. Three, a lot of the galleries had free hors d’oeuvres and wine.
I guess four, we liked art, but honestly it was hard to remember that sometimes. Sometimes looking at other people’s finished canvases just made me angry. What made them able to decide that they were done? What made other people agree that they were worth hanging on the wall? What justified the astronomical price tags next to them?
I’m not saying that this was anything but jealousy. I’m just saying that art and I are in a complicated relationship.
About a month ago, we went to a newly-opened gallery, Souhait. It was the usual setup: tall glass windows in front showcasing the art placed strategically on bright white walls within. It had the standard mix of oddly angled separators allowing the patrons to wander slowly through the room and discover the paintings one at a time. Basically it looked like every other gallery, but as it was a new opening it had better wine than most.
I was taking a casual tour of the perimeter when Jerrod appeared at my elbow.
“Hey, congratulations!” he said. “You weren’t going to tell us? I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘what’ indeed.” He steered me around several corners to where Albina was admiring a painting. “‘There’s a new gallery opening, we should all go, no reason.’ Congrats!”
I stared at the painting in disbelief. It was one of mine.
I was certain that I hadn’t submitted to this gallery. I hadn’t even heard of it until Albina had mentioned that it was opening. I would have remembered receiving a letter of acceptance, and I definitely would have remembered delivering a painting. None of these things had happened.
And yet there my art was on the wall. It had my signature, and my name displayed next to it on a card. I knew the piece. I’d done it two or three years ago. It was good, very representative of my style at the time, but I’d moved on and had stopped trying to get it displayed a while ago. The last I had seen it, it was six or seven canvases deep in a stack of pieces that I had nowhere else to put.
It was fairly obvious that that was not the case now. The proof was on the wall in front of me.
Albina and Jerrod were both praising me, so I just smiled and made vaguely humble comments. I must have submitted it. It wasn’t like someone had broken into our apartment and stolen a single piece of my art. It was both confusing and concerning that I couldn’t recall offering it to this gallery, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
I was still trying to puzzle this out when another familiar piece caught my eye. I nudged Jerrod. “Oh, so I’m the one keeping secrets?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I pointed across the floor. His eyes widened as he saw the same thing I had: one of his paintings neatly framed and prominently displayed.
“I didn’t even know you’d finished that one,” I said. “I swear I saw you working on it like two days ago.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit lost. “I was.”
“How’d you get the gallery to take it before it was even done?”
“Oh my God, look!” said Albina.
In the back corner of the gallery, occupying an entire corner, was a small collection of Albina’s work. It was expertly curated. I’d watched her develop her style for years, and the eight paintings chosen here perfectly encapsulated the entire range. Clusters of people kept gathering in front of them, and I saw more than one slip off to speak to the gallery owner about purchasing a piece.
“Albi, these are amazing,” I told her after we finally managed to get close enough to see them all properly. “This—some of these are absolute perfection. I don’t think I’ve even seen all of them.”
“Seriously, when did you do all of this?” asked Jerrod. “Some of these are definitely new. Unless you have a secret studio you’ve been hiding from us?”
He narrowed his eyes at her in mock suspicion. She laughed, shoving him lightly, but behind her smile I saw the same confusion that I’d heard in Jerrod’s voice, the same that I’d felt myself. None of us knew that our work was going to be on display here. Something was very odd.
We didn’t talk about it then. Oddity or not, our art and our names were on display, and there were free drinks to toast with. We refilled our glasses, congratulated each other effusively, wandered the gallery for a bit and then did it all again. By the time we were walking home, all concerns had vanished from all of our minds. We were successful! We could figure out how and why later.
The next morning, Albina was dead.
I woke up late with a hangover. Jerrod woke up later, looking even rougher than I did. There was nothing resembling breakfast anywhere in the apartment, so we sat and sipped our coffee silently. Albina’s door was open, and I think we both hoped that she’d gone out to get bagels or something and that we would shortly be provided for.
She wasn’t answering texts, and Jerrod and I were just starting to get concerned when there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find a policeman asking if we knew Albina Shevchenko, and if we had contact information for her family, and if we could come identify the body.
It had been a hit and run. She’d been dead by the time witnesses had gotten to her. No one had seen the car’s license plate. The police didn’t even pretend that there was a chance of justice.
They gave us her effects, including what remained of a bag of bagels. Somehow that was the worst part for me. She’d gone out to get something to celebrate with us. It made us complicit.
At the funeral, the priest spoke about her giving spirit and her wonderful personality, but most of all he spoke about her massive artistic talent. He went on at length about what she could have created if she had not had her span cut short. The entire gathering nodded along with him.
Jerrod and I exchanged looks. It wasn’t that he was wrong. She was amazing, and eventually the world would have known about her. It’s just that that hadn’t happened yet. The three of us were, as far as we could tell, the only ones really aware of how much potential we had. If everyone knew this about her, why had she been scraping by in a dingy apartment with us, trying to get enough money together to buy more art supplies?
“We should go back to Souhait,” Jerrod said after the funeral. “The gallery owner probably doesn’t know. We’ll need to get her pieces back before he trashes them when she doesn’t respond.”
Our trip was unnecessary. The gallery owner had Albina’s obituary blown up to large size and prominently displayed next to a tremendous collection of her work. It covered entire walls of the gallery, each piece with an explanatory card discussing when and why she had painted it. Where the prices had been on the cards, every single one was marked “SOLD.”
I was looking around for the owner to ask where he was sending the money when Jerrod grabbed my arm.
“Look,” he said, half-whispering.
Arranged in a neat circle on one wall were a dozen of his paintings.
“I don’t know that I want to be on display here,” he said. He sounded frightened.
“Then take them back. They’re your pieces.”
“Are they?” He pointed. “I never finished that one. That’s how I wanted it to look, but I couldn’t get it right. I swear I never completed it. And there! I never painted that. I thought of it, I knew it in my head, but I have never put brush to canvas for it. Not even to start it.
“How could they have any of this? How could anyone?” His voice was rapidly rising toward hysteria.
“Hey, let’s get you out of here,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll come back tomorrow and get them taken down if you want. We’re all running on fumes right now.”
Privately, I thought again about the piece that Souhait had of mine. I’d never gotten around to looking for it at the apartment. Things had been a blur since Albi’s death. I wondered how this gallery had so much of our stuff. I wondered what else had been taken.
Back at home, Jerrod rummaged through his artwork, hunting for something.
“See?” he said finally, holding up a canvas. “I told you. It isn’t done.”
He was holding up something that could have been an early attempt at one of the pieces we’d seen in the gallery. It was the same general idea, but the colors weren’t right and the composition didn’t gel. Also, as he’d said, it was clearly incomplete. Parts of the canvas still showed through in some areas. It wasn’t what was hanging on the walls.
“I told you,” he repeated. “How can they have art I never finished?”
I tried to get him to calm down. I sat him down on the couch and poured him a drink. We’d go back in the morning, I said. We’d find the owner. We’d sort all of this out. It was a problem for tomorrow, not for this evening. Not right after a funeral.
I thought I’d gotten him to agree with me. I poured us both another drink. Somewhere in the middle of that one, I fell asleep on the couch.
When I woke up, Jerrod was gone.
Just one of those things, the police said. Wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been mugged. His credit cards and phone were gone. He’d bled out in the street. He was almost halfway to Souhait.
I went there to get his art taken down, like he’d wanted. They’d already expanded the collection. His photo smiled down at me from the main wall, next to an obituary lauding his talent, his bold innovation, his novelty. The rest of the gallery was plastered with his work. I recognized some of the paintings he’d been rifling through at the apartment the previous day. Most had already been sold.
And on the back wall, in a small but well-lit section by themselves, hung six of my paintings. The one that I’d seen the first night was there, along with two others I was particularly proud of. If I’d been asked to pick three pieces to best represent who I was and who I had been as an artist, those might have been them.
The other three bore my signature, but I did not paint them. Not yet. Like Jerrod, I knew the subject matter in them. I had thought of them, conceived them, and even made some attempts to put them to canvas, but they had never come out like I’d imagined. I’d set them aside to try again later, when I had better supplies, when I was better.
Yet here they hung, complete and perfect, exactly as I had pictured them. It was a triumph of my craft.
It was beautiful to see what I could become, given enough time.
It’s just too bad that I don’t have it.
Most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead.
submitted by the-third-person to micahwrites [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 14:13 the-third-person I discovered one of my paintings in an art gallery

I’m an artist. Not one you’ve heard of, though that may be changing soon. Being an artist is about creation, not about commercial success. I wouldn’t mind getting the occasional acceptance mixed in with the constant stream of rejection, of course, but it’s a process.
A long process. They say that most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead. I’d always hoped that I’d make it slightly before that.
I graduated last year with an MFA from a relatively prestigious institution, along with a dozen other folks who convinced themselves that an insurmountable pile of debt was the best way to jump right into the starving artist lifestyle. We were, as mentioned, a small class, so we all went to each other’s showings and were generally supportive, but I was only really friends with two of the others, Jerrod and Albina.
The three of us ended up rooming together for the last year of the program, and we kept that going post-graduation. Having other folks in the house who look through the mail with the same mix of hope and trepidation is surprisingly helpful. Alone, it’s easy to simply look at everyone else’s filtered life and assume that you’re the only one failing. When you come down in the morning to find your roommate crying in her cornflakes because her last eleven submissions haven’t even gotten the courtesy of a rejection letter, it’s a little easier to see that this is just how life goes sometimes.
One of our favorite Friday night activities was going to local galleries to see who they had on display. There were a few reasons for this. One, it gave us a good idea of what they liked to show, helping us hone our own submissions. Two, it was very cathartic to be catty about what had been picked. Three, a lot of the galleries had free hors d’oeuvres and wine.
I guess four, we liked art, but honestly it was hard to remember that sometimes. Sometimes looking at other people’s finished canvases just made me angry. What made them able to decide that they were done? What made other people agree that they were worth hanging on the wall? What justified the astronomical price tags next to them?
I’m not saying that this was anything but jealousy. I’m just saying that art and I are in a complicated relationship.
About a month ago, we went to a newly-opened gallery, Souhait. It was the usual setup: tall glass windows in front showcasing the art placed strategically on bright white walls within. It had the standard mix of oddly angled separators allowing the patrons to wander slowly through the room and discover the paintings one at a time. Basically it looked like every other gallery, but as it was a new opening it had better wine than most.
I was taking a casual tour of the perimeter when Jerrod appeared at my elbow.
“Hey, congratulations!” he said. “You weren’t going to tell us? I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘what’ indeed.” He steered me around several corners to where Albina was admiring a painting. “‘There’s a new gallery opening, we should all go, no reason.’ Congrats!”
I stared at the painting in disbelief. It was one of mine.
I was certain that I hadn’t submitted to this gallery. I hadn’t even heard of it until Albina had mentioned that it was opening. I would have remembered receiving a letter of acceptance, and I definitely would have remembered delivering a painting. None of these things had happened.
And yet there my art was on the wall. It had my signature, and my name displayed next to it on a card. I knew the piece. I’d done it two or three years ago. It was good, very representative of my style at the time, but I’d moved on and had stopped trying to get it displayed a while ago. The last I had seen it, it was six or seven canvases deep in a stack of pieces that I had nowhere else to put.
It was fairly obvious that that was not the case now. The proof was on the wall in front of me.
Albina and Jerrod were both praising me, so I just smiled and made vaguely humble comments. I must have submitted it. It wasn’t like someone had broken into our apartment and stolen a single piece of my art. It was both confusing and concerning that I couldn’t recall offering it to this gallery, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
I was still trying to puzzle this out when another familiar piece caught my eye. I nudged Jerrod. “Oh, so I’m the one keeping secrets?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I pointed across the floor. His eyes widened as he saw the same thing I had: one of his paintings neatly framed and prominently displayed.
“I didn’t even know you’d finished that one,” I said. “I swear I saw you working on it like two days ago.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit lost. “I was.”
“How’d you get the gallery to take it before it was even done?”
“Oh my God, look!” said Albina.
In the back corner of the gallery, occupying an entire corner, was a small collection of Albina’s work. It was expertly curated. I’d watched her develop her style for years, and the eight paintings chosen here perfectly encapsulated the entire range. Clusters of people kept gathering in front of them, and I saw more than one slip off to speak to the gallery owner about purchasing a piece.
“Albi, these are amazing,” I told her after we finally managed to get close enough to see them all properly. “This—some of these are absolute perfection. I don’t think I’ve even seen all of them.”
“Seriously, when did you do all of this?” asked Jerrod. “Some of these are definitely new. Unless you have a secret studio you’ve been hiding from us?”
He narrowed his eyes at her in mock suspicion. She laughed, shoving him lightly, but behind her smile I saw the same confusion that I’d heard in Jerrod’s voice, the same that I’d felt myself. None of us knew that our work was going to be on display here. Something was very odd.
We didn’t talk about it then. Oddity or not, our art and our names were on display, and there were free drinks to toast with. We refilled our glasses, congratulated each other effusively, wandered the gallery for a bit and then did it all again. By the time we were walking home, all concerns had vanished from all of our minds. We were successful! We could figure out how and why later.
The next morning, Albina was dead.
I woke up late with a hangover. Jerrod woke up later, looking even rougher than I did. There was nothing resembling breakfast anywhere in the apartment, so we sat and sipped our coffee silently. Albina’s door was open, and I think we both hoped that she’d gone out to get bagels or something and that we would shortly be provided for.
She wasn’t answering texts, and Jerrod and I were just starting to get concerned when there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find a policeman asking if we knew Albina Shevchenko, and if we had contact information for her family, and if we could come identify the body.
It had been a hit and run. She’d been dead by the time witnesses had gotten to her. No one had seen the car’s license plate. The police didn’t even pretend that there was a chance of justice.
They gave us her effects, including what remained of a bag of bagels. Somehow that was the worst part for me. She’d gone out to get something to celebrate with us. It made us complicit.
At the funeral, the priest spoke about her giving spirit and her wonderful personality, but most of all he spoke about her massive artistic talent. He went on at length about what she could have created if she had not had her span cut short. The entire gathering nodded along with him.
Jerrod and I exchanged looks. It wasn’t that he was wrong. She was amazing, and eventually the world would have known about her. It’s just that that hadn’t happened yet. The three of us were, as far as we could tell, the only ones really aware of how much potential we had. If everyone knew this about her, why had she been scraping by in a dingy apartment with us, trying to get enough money together to buy more art supplies?
“We should go back to Souhait,” Jerrod said after the funeral. “The gallery owner probably doesn’t know. We’ll need to get her pieces back before he trashes them when she doesn’t respond.”
Our trip was unnecessary. The gallery owner had Albina’s obituary blown up to large size and prominently displayed next to a tremendous collection of her work. It covered entire walls of the gallery, each piece with an explanatory card discussing when and why she had painted it. Where the prices had been on the cards, every single one was marked “SOLD.”
I was looking around for the owner to ask where he was sending the money when Jerrod grabbed my arm.
“Look,” he said, half-whispering.
Arranged in a neat circle on one wall were a dozen of his paintings.
“I don’t know that I want to be on display here,” he said. He sounded frightened.
“Then take them back. They’re your pieces.”
“Are they?” He pointed. “I never finished that one. That’s how I wanted it to look, but I couldn’t get it right. I swear I never completed it. And there! I never painted that. I thought of it, I knew it in my head, but I have never put brush to canvas for it. Not even to start it.
“How could they have any of this? How could anyone?” His voice was rapidly rising toward hysteria.
“Hey, let’s get you out of here,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll come back tomorrow and get them taken down if you want. We’re all running on fumes right now.”
Privately, I thought again about the piece that Souhait had of mine. I’d never gotten around to looking for it at the apartment. Things had been a blur since Albi’s death. I wondered how this gallery had so much of our stuff. I wondered what else had been taken.
Back at home, Jerrod rummaged through his artwork, hunting for something.
“See?” he said finally, holding up a canvas. “I told you. It isn’t done.”
He was holding up something that could have been an early attempt at one of the pieces we’d seen in the gallery. It was the same general idea, but the colors weren’t right and the composition didn’t gel. Also, as he’d said, it was clearly incomplete. Parts of the canvas still showed through in some areas. It wasn’t what was hanging on the walls.
“I told you,” he repeated. “How can they have art I never finished?”
I tried to get him to calm down. I sat him down on the couch and poured him a drink. We’d go back in the morning, I said. We’d find the owner. We’d sort all of this out. It was a problem for tomorrow, not for this evening. Not right after a funeral.
I thought I’d gotten him to agree with me. I poured us both another drink. Somewhere in the middle of that one, I fell asleep on the couch.
When I woke up, Jerrod was gone.
Just one of those things, the police said. Wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been mugged. His credit cards and phone were gone. He’d bled out in the street. He was almost halfway to Souhait.
I went there to get his art taken down, like he’d wanted. They’d already expanded the collection. His photo smiled down at me from the main wall, next to an obituary lauding his talent, his bold innovation, his novelty. The rest of the gallery was plastered with his work. I recognized some of the paintings he’d been rifling through at the apartment the previous day. Most had already been sold.
And on the back wall, in a small but well-lit section by themselves, hung six of my paintings. The one that I’d seen the first night was there, along with two others I was particularly proud of. If I’d been asked to pick three pieces to best represent who I was and who I had been as an artist, those might have been them.
The other three bore my signature, but I did not paint them. Not yet. Like Jerrod, I knew the subject matter in them. I had thought of them, conceived them, and even made some attempts to put them to canvas, but they had never come out like I’d imagined. I’d set them aside to try again later, when I had better supplies, when I was better.
Yet here they hung, complete and perfect, exactly as I had pictured them. It was a triumph of my craft.
It was beautiful to see what I could become, given enough time.
It’s just too bad that I don’t have it.
Most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead.
X
submitted by the-third-person to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 13:22 Aggravatedmomoftwo Choosing family or my spouse

I 36F am married to 38M for roughly 15 years, for 8 of those years we’ve practically lived two separate lives because of his career choices. He’s an over the road truck driver who has moved us (my kids 15f, 13f and I) to different states where I have no support system or family to only see him every few months. Last year we moved back home where my family is. He ended up quitting his job because he “wanted to go local”. This lasted a total of three weeks before he ended up going to another state to stay with a friend and find work up there. He found a job that ended up being 5 days on and 2 days off. I never agreed to moving out of state yet here we are again moving once again.
Usually I’d shut my mouth and just go with it knowing that it’s just going to be me and my kids for the most part. But we moved back because my mom is deathly ill, she may have a year or two good years left before Parkinson’s and dementia fully take over. It’s been over 8 years since I’ve lived near my mom. When I tell my spouse this I’m told “well, you can fly down, you’re not missing much yet and can be there when she’s dying.” I went through this with my grandfather and yes, I got to see him the last 72 hours of life but I immediately had to leave and couldn’t be there for the funeral. To this day it eats me alive. The last time we broke up for a few months my brother died and I was able to spend three weeks there planning my brother’s funeral, packing his things, going to his celebration of life. I’d never gotten to do this if we weren’t broken up at that time.
While my marriage has had ups and downs this choice will end it. My brain tells me to leave but my heart says otherwise and it always comes back to my kids. I never wanted to separate them from their dad as I never was around mine growing up.
submitted by Aggravatedmomoftwo to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 11:25 notyouraveragetwin I just need to talk

Its almost 4am and i don't think sleep is going to happen until I 'talk' about it.
My sister(45f) died January 7th of this year. I hosted a 'drink in remembrance' a couple weeks later when it became obvious my mother was going to drag this out. 'I want to wait til spring' she kept saying. It was not the official service by any means. There's a lot of meat and potatoes to this situation, just trying to think of the most relevant.
My mother casually mentioned she went up north to the cemetery memorial weekend to clean her parents headstone and stuff. I can't help but be upset.
The plot has been purchased, yet her ashes are still at the funeral home. There are no current plans to bury her soon. I'm starting to feel like she's doing this to 'punish' her. She died of an overdose.
In the last two years my mom and her have spoken 2 times. I talked to her weekly and saw her about 2x a month the last few months of her life. We talked Friday briefly and Saturday night she was gone. We were close.
My mother has made it clear only her feelings matter. I retrieved her personal belongings and went through them alone. I made the picture boards for the informal event I hosted. Alone. I have 2 other siblings... I feel extremely abandoned. She spiraled the past two years horribly. My family 'washed their hands off her'.
Yes she was a different person the last two years. But she deserves better than this. I need my sister to put to rest for the sake of my mental health. It's keeping me up at night. I'm so anxious, and I know its because I need to my sister to be laid to rest. Not sitting on shelf in a closet at the funeral home.
I'm willing to get her and keep her ashes with me until mom is 'ready', but I can't hear another lecture about how this isn't about my feelings.
I asked my older brother to talk to her, because his opinions and feelings matter.
I feel like my mother is being selfish. I have cousin's and her friends who kept inquiring about the official service(snow storm kept a lot of people home that day I hosted. And no, my mom didn't come to that. My dad did. He's irritated with her too but he won't say anything.
I thought my family was normal. We sure put on a good show because this situation has me reflecting on my life. And normal is the last word id use to describe my immediate family.
I don't know what I'm asking. I just had to ramble somewhere and i think I'm going to fall asleep soon now that I got this out of my head.
I miss my sister.
submitted by notyouraveragetwin to GriefSupport [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 10:22 Plushytoonz There is a town called Necro town

An old friend of mine once told me never to go to Necro town. I asked him why but he just never gave me the answer. Looking far from my home town, Necro town looked abandoned and was never owned by anybody nearby. Whenever I look out into that town, I wonder about it. The unknown and its many mysteries.
My old friend seems to have lived in that place but he never did. It's as if he was making up a horror story about Necro town. But, I did what he told me to. Never go there. Ever.
I asked my parents about that place. They never knew anything about it except it's just a wasteland. Grandpa never knew about it either. Such a mystery as to why would my old friend prohibit me from entering but my dad said otherwise. "If you want to go there and explore the place, I guess you can. But you better be careful from strangers alright kid."
By the time I turned 14, the bully in my school keeps getting worse on me. I get slammed into a locker, get my head knocked out, and even beaten up. I really don't want to go back to school but how am I supposed to convince my parents that?
The reason I don't have any friends at school was mostly because they don't like me as a person. I expressed myself for who I am and yet I get mocked by them all the time. calling me many names like freak, loser, norm, or even Melvin the idiot. Was it because I'm different? I have no clue about them at all.
I tried to fight back but they just keep winning every time. So then, I run away from school in the middle of classes, lunch breaks, and activities but every time I do, a teacher always caught me down and send me to the principles office. I lied to them and said "Because I wanna get candy." Or "I forgot my books back home.". I don't want to tell them the truth because I knew how much big trouble I'm going to have if I do.
I tried escaping all over again and finally I made it one day. And whenever I escaped, I always go to my old friends house. We go into the woods to go fishing in the pond. I love seeing those shiny blue fishes in the waters because they're just so beautiful when I look at them in the afternoon.
My old friend's name is Brandon West. He's of course much older than me because he's about 64 years old and for some reason he got so much energy to keep himself moving. He always have his brown firm cane with him everywhere he goes. He tells me tales of ancient beings, heavens and hells, the Sturgeon, and the blue turbo.
I've asked about the blue turbo and all he said was. "He's a sad man." Sad man sounds like he's been through a lot.
The blue turbo was born in a world where flame people live. They all have special powers depending on their shape and colors of their bodies. Green flame, blue flame, red flame, etc. He grew up with lovely parents who have similar powers to his. His power is both his parents powers. In his childhood, he grew fond of his friends and family that he devoted his life to protect the good in life.
In his teenage years, he became an officer. Protecting the people who are in danger. It was starting to get dangerous for him, but that never means he won't give up.
In his late 20s, he became a well devoted guardian, fighting against the evil dark powers from beneath the world's surface. He loved everything that is good in life. He had a wife and son while being a guardian. Their relationship was strong and they did whatever it takes to enjoy life. But then one day, the world around them turned into a warfare. The evil dark powers are killing people whilst they fight back. He fought hard and won. But it was at a huge cost. He lost his wife and child right in front of his eyes. Lost what's left in the world. He fell to a deep depression, which he quit being a guardian and was never to be seen again.
Brandon always looked sad whenever he told me the blue turbo. It's as if that felt real and it did happen. But, it is compelling. I asked him about where did the blue turbo go. He said. "Don't know. But wherever he is, he'll still devote himself in life."
One day when I was 16, I escaped school again and this time it didn't go well. By the time I walked behind the basketball court, I was caught by the bully and his gang. "Well oh well. Looks like Melvin the idiot is trying to leave the school all by himself. You're really going to leave again just so that you'll get away from us? That ain't happening norm." They were going to beat me up badly, so I didn't waste anymore time as I ran away from them. I didn't know how fast I was at this point.
They kept following me as I ran on the sidewalk. I didn't want to look back because I knew very well that if I did, I'll slow down. The running footsteps behind me kept pacing towards me. I can hear the loud steps as if they're like the golem's foot. My breath is getting shallow the more I keep running and my legs began to grow numb and sore. But I never slowed down nor stop. I just kept running until I finally lost them.
"Get back here you freak!!"
"We're going to kill you loser!!"
Then, a road towards Necro Town appeared before me. The words from Brandon echoed inside my mind not to go in there. My heart beats in fear. The bully and his gang chasing behind me like I'm their food to eat. My legs are about to surrender to my exhaustion and I can feel every pain coming from my muscles.
I can hear the footsteps behind me as I think of any other options. There are no other ways to go except into Necro town. I don't want to be beaten up or killed. Then, every memory of myself being bullied by them flashes into my mind, making me very angry. I'm sick and tired of being their punching bag. It's time for me to fight back!
I stopped at my tracks and turned to face them. Face to face. They stood on their grounds before me. Laughing at me with mockery. I stood my grounds and prepared myself for the worst. "I'm tired of being your punching bag! It's time for me to stand up for myself! I'm not afraid of you!!" But I lied. I'm still scared of getting beaten up. All I want is for them to stop bullying me forever.
The bully rushes towards me and I was ready to punch him at any moment given. By the time he's in front of me, I missed my shot. The punishment for my failed attempt to punch him was getting knocked out by getting punched in the face. I fell to the ground, knocking my head against it. My body passed through the limits of entering Necro town. My head and shoulders lay on the Necro town grounds.
I was then slowly dragged into Necro town by the bully's gang. I can feel the painful sting on my back as I get dragged. Suddenly, before I went to sleep mode, I heard screams. The bully's scream fades far away and his gang gets slowly decreasing. My arms are dropped down. The hands that held me tight are loosened from my arms so fast. I can hear each of them screaming in fear as piece by piece they disappear. Then I blacked out.
I woke up to find myself in an empty dark room. While my vision was getting clear, I slowly stand back up. When I got back my conscious, I gagged from the awful stench that just came from inside this room. I looked around to see where's the door for my escape and there, I see the shining golden knob reflecting my sight. I ran and grab hold of it, then twist it to open the door. To my very eyes, I've witnessed the most insane horror I've ever had in my life.
The sources aren't just in the room I was in. It was also in the living room because there are 5 dead bodies hanging like pig meat. Their flesh cut and sliced so disgustingly brutal that I can see their organs and tissues beginning to slip out of the sockets. Blood and bones are spread around the floor, shining the cold light that shines through the curtains of the outside. When I look at the top of their corpses, there are eyes looking directly at me with fear. Then I realize that they're still alive.
They suddenly screamed everywhere with the pain they share. I blocked my ears with my palm as I felt the twist in my stomach getting worse. Tears rapidly escapes out of my eyes that I shut my eyes tight. I quickly ran out of there and arrived to a room that is full of random colors. The colors are wrong. They're all wrong in many different ways that I can't describe so well about it. The screams and the colors made me vomit all over the floor. I nearly fell to the ground but I kept myself back up in hopes of leaving this place. I want to go home. I want to see Brandon again. I wished I'd rather get beaten up in the basketball court than coming here to lead my bully and his crew to their unholy demise.
I spun around in a frenzy and saw the bright and weird door before me. I quickly opened it and I was met with a freezing atmosphere. The world turned into some sort of hell. There are large stone spikes all over Necro town, crushing through the houses. The sky all grey and the sun is smiling at me with an empty mouth. Its eyes glaring at me in those sockets. The Sockets are too big for the eye balls that I thought it'll fall to the ground but it didn't.
I don't see anybody else outside. There's only the deformed flesh like trees and broken homes. My heart begins to panic. The world is making me crazy and horrified at the same time that I froze in place.
Something was walking behind me. They felt wrong, all wrong like it's not human. I turned around to see nothing. Literally nothing. There's no room filled with colors and the screaming stopped. Far away from myself is the darkest room I've ever seen. All dark. No light. Nothing.
I closed the door behind me and checked the room that was hanging my bully and his colleagues but they're all gone and the wall is stained with blood. The writing gave me enough chills and fear that drives me mad. There is no god to save you, Hermit
I spun around in a frenzy as if someones looking at me. I can feel the eyes are at me and I don't know where it is until a stomp noise can be heard right in the room I woke up in. At first, there were loud footsteps, and now it's banging on the door like a maniac. I didn't wait for it to come out of course. So I ran away, outside in the hellish Necro town.
I'm running on the road now and something is coming for me. Thoughts popping inside my head about whatever is coming for me, it won't lose my tracks as it can smell my very soul. Until I was very far away from the house I was in, a loud scream booms from that house. The scream is like the thousand souls tormented in hell for all eternity. I can feel its gaze at me with its hellish intentions.
I didn't stop to look back. I just kept running until I get into my home. How far is this town? Because I've been running for much longer and the town shouldn't be so far. The footsteps are getting closer as my heart beats faster with every second of its footsteps getting closer.
My legs became so sore and numb, and my lungs became so shallow from the burning air. I suddenly coughed so much that I fell to the ground, hitting my elbow. I tried to crawl away but it was already too late as the thing behind me has already come to get me. I rolled on my back and looked forward to see a tall hideous figure.
It was a tall humanoid with coal like skin. Its skin tightens its bones and I can see its red blood veins pulse around its deflated muscles. Its legs are of a goat's legs, resembling the creature to be something demonic like the devil. The arms are so long that its length is from shoulder to feet. Snd its fingers are way too long that it's like a monstrous claw. Its head is not human, more like a hood connecting to its shoulders. It's not the long and impossible stretched jaw that made me scream. The eyes are because there's nothing in them. Nothing but darkness of Sheol.
It's reaching me with those hideous claws while screaming like a wild demonic animal ready to pounce on their prey. Is this really how I was going to die. To be brutally mauled by its claws and jaw. Will I share the same fate as the bully and his comrades? I don't want to know and I never want to live like this. I'm scared. I don't want to die.
By the time it reaches me, something bright hits it. It's like I'm looking at a fireball? It was big. Bigger than my torso. I looked upwards to see a bright blue figure approaching me. It's like I'm looking at someone from the afterlife because its whole body is in flames except for a recognizable coat, pants, and a cane.
"It's been so long since I've fought these creatures." It was a voice of an old man I recognize clearly. But this doesn't make any sense at all. It's so strange for this guy to sound like Brandon but his voice matches him.
The creature growled at him like a dog and I didn't waste anytime to get away from it. But the smoking smell in my lungs prohibit me to get away. It's like I was dying. But my eyes are alright.
The creature jumps over me, attacking the savior of my life. He shot another fire ball at it and that makes the creature soar back. The creature stands back up wildly before the stranger appeared before it as if he teleported in a blink of an eye. He wack his cane at its head which rips off from its neck. This stranger killed that creature like its nothing but when he turned around I can see fear on his face.
His face, I can see his eyes and mouth. There's also 2 triangular scar at the sides of his chin and they're not burning in flames. "Melvin. I can explain later but right now we have to leave." He said my name just like Brandon does. This is insane, I don't know if I was dreaming or it's real because everything is going mad.
"Let me help you up." He held me by the arm, pulling me up from the ground as I tried to take a breath. My legs are too tired for me to walk. But when he pulled me from the ground, I felt a great sensation of cleansing in my lungs and my legs and muscles began to relax. His hands doesn't hurt nor burn me as if it's a regular hand with no effect on me. I look at him and still he's in fear. Why would he be scared too?
"Brandon?" I said with fear and question in my voice. He looked at me with defeat as if he can't hide that away anymore. That's how I knew he's Brandon. "Well. Looks like you figured it out. But come on. Lets move now. You don't want the fish and chips cold." As he ran, I followed in pursuit. My legs felt reborn and my lungs have increased somehow. This felt so real. Everything does. I'm not dreaming at all. It's really happening. I kept asking Brandon with many questions from my head. "You're the blue turbo?"
"Yes. I am."
"Where were you after you quit being a -"
"Melvin. Now is not the time. We have to go. I'll answer them until we reach home ok."
We were suddenly blocked by 5 more of these creatures. They're just like the one I met before when I was being chased. I hid behind Brandon for safety as the creatures screams. I stepped far back from them, not wanting to turn into their puppet or something worse. I looked around to see more of them approaching us with hungry mouths. We're surrounded.
We stand with our backs facing each other. I'm horrified to see more of these demonic creatures all around us, ready to pounce at any moment. When I turn to see Brandon I thought he would be scared but he looks like he knew this would happen. "Melvin, when I say go, run away and don't look back. Keep running no matter what."
"What? But I don't want to leave you."
"I know. But this is the least I can do for you to live. You know my story Melvin. You know why."
My heart sank from the message. Leaving him here with all these creatures, I don't even know if he'll live on after this. But what can I do against these creatures. I'm just a human. I felt so much fear and guilt. After for what I've done to myself and Brandon. I wished I never had run away.
The monsters are creeping in. I can hear the chatters from their jaws and the footsteps around us. The creatures are ready to kill us because their backs are lifting up as a sign of predatory nature. Then suddenly when Brandon pierces his cane to the ground a loud boom vibrated around us as blue circular waves from the cane emerges out. The waves created a gravitational force that the creatures started floating in the air. Except we weren't floating. "GO!!"
And with that, I ran away as fast as I can, far away from this hell, far away from the only friend I have in my life. I can hear the sounds of vibration turned shut quiet and the screams of the demonic creatures so loud I ran even more faster. Tears are falling from my cheek with the guilt squeezing my heart with pain.
When I finally escaped and was on the clear road, I cried. I cried so much that I can feel everything around me started to fall. I've lost my best friend in Necro town and it's all my fault. If I hadn’t ran away, none of this would’ve happened. I've lost him. I was lying on the ground with the deepest depression in my soul hurting me. I can't bare to lose my friend. I just can't. What am I even supposed to do? I can't save him. I'm not strong enough. I'm just scared.
I'm now sitting at the front porch of Brandon's home. Waiting for him to come back for days. I haven't eaten anything nor come back home or school. I just stayed there waiting for him to come back. I'm alone and scared.
I kept being bothered by random people. They ask why I'm still outside. I never did answer until they called the hospital or the cops. I told them there's nothing to worry about but they don't believe me. If I tell them the truth, they'll die in Necro town and I don't want that for them. I don't believe the cops would understand.
From every hospital or cops I went through, I just kept coming back. Even my parents told me to stay home, I snuck out in the night waiting for my old friend. I did eat sometimes but not really much. I just went to my room until night time arrives.
Then, one day, at midnight, he's back. He's really back. I was so happy and glad he's alive just the way he is. But when I approached to hug him, he collapsed down to his knees. I was exploded with fear and worry. I helped him up and asked him what just happened. "I don't have much time Melvin. Lets go inside, we have a visitor I think you would like to meet. Meet Judith Wednesday." Behind him was a girl who's the same age as me. Her hair is black and she wore a grey hoodie with a logo I've never seen in my whole life. She was covered in dark red blood. The blood that is definitely from the creatures in Necro town.
We all went in and I gave Brandon a seat on the couch. Judith sat next to his left. And me, I sat next to his right. "Brandon, what happened?"
He looked at me with a smile on his face as he begins to change form in front of my eyes. His body changed like he was glowing and the flames form around him. His form now just like the form I saw while at Necro city. "Well. With the help of this young lady, we've defeated all the monsters. But, for me, it didn't go well for me. I'm slowly dying you see. I'm not going to have much time in this world."
"But you can't die. You're like spiritual aren't you?"
"Yes. But that doesn't mean death can't happen to me. I don't know where people like me go when they die. Nobody does."
I can feel my heart race as the tears slides on my face. I can't help myself but to cry before him.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ran away. I shouldn't have."
"Melvin. It's not your fault. I saved you because I wanted you to live a life I protected. It's my choice. And I'm glad I did. And you didn’t do anything to get there on purpose. I would’ve done the same thing by running if I were you. Now. Lets go fishing together. One last time."
I wiped my tears away, trying my best not to ruin this very moment but I just couldn't help myself. He reached out his arms and I took it. I hugged him tightly whilst crying so deeply that I don't want to let go. We've stayed like this for couple of minutes until I finally let go with my soul finally relaxing but with small sadness. My guilt is free.
We grabbed our fishing equipment and went to the river in the forest. Judith follows us with a fishing rod in hand. I don't feel anything like talking to her but at least we both have company. To share the moment together I guess. But this is for Brandon and I hope she knew that too.
When we arrived at the jetty and started placing worm food at the hooks. Brandon was the first to throw his fishing hook. The fishing hook was glowing blue, just like his flames. The pond glowed so bright like a lantern. It was beautiful. The fishes shine so bright from the light. It's as if the world around us is gone and all that matters was this very moment before death.
Judith was struggling to put the worm food at the hook. I went to help her but she said. "It's ok. I got it." By the time her finger was nearly stabbed by the hook, the tip of her finger turned into metal. But that didn't bother me because at this moment, it felt like home. We just laughed. I don't know why we were laughing and it's like being a kid again.
We threw our fishing hooks in the pond, waiting for a fish to bite. The shiny blue fishes. They're more beautiful than I'd remembered. The stains of my tears fades away. "Melvin. You promise me that you'll stay strong?"
I heard Brandon said and I didn't believe it at first. How can I be strong for those that really need help or even myself? "I'm not strong."
"You are. You're strong the way you are. It's ok to be scared because that's a part of how we live. You're a good man Melvin. You just got to believe in yourself."
"How?"
With a smile on his face, he replied. "You find ways to make yourself better. Achieve your goals. And enjoy life." His words are so convincing that I begin to believe that. My eyes caught my attention to Judith with a warm and sad smile on her face. For some reason, that helped me believe too. I think I can be strong if that's what he said. "Ok. I'll be strong."
"Good. Remember Melvin, you're not alone." And with a sad and free smile on his face, he faded away before my very eyes. His body evaporated into nothing as the last bits of his flames disappear. The tears in my eyes slowly fell as I look into the the pond and the sun beginning to rise.
"I know how it feels." I heard Judith said.
"Really?'
"I've lost my mom and dad to cancer. My mom died when I turned 8. My dad died when I'm at the age of 16. I felt so depressed when my parents die right in front of me. I can't do anything except watch."
"I guess we both got the same moment then. I wish I could just get him back." She looked at me with sad eyes. This very moment makes us feel so calmly sad like its a funeral or somewhere quiet.
"I know. But there's nothing we can do. We just have to move forward with the memories."
It was nice to have someone with me who had similar stories like mine. She was right, we can't do anything about it. We can't get them back. It was hard for me, I know well. Like she said, I had to move forward and keep the memories I had with Brandon. I looked at the sky and prayed that wherever Brandon is now, he's at peace with his wife and son. In a good life he deserved.
It's been a few weeks. I stopped trying to escape school because my bully's are gone. But that didn't make me feel better at all nor felt good. Their parents looked everywhere for them, even the cops but they're not found. Some of the cops went into Necro town and was never heard of again. I wished I could warn them but they don't believe me when I did.
Judith came to visit me every now and then whenever I left school. We exchange stories of our past lives and other stories shared by others. We became close as friends as we kept hanging out with each other. I'm very glad and happy to have a new friend. She's not like any other teenager I've ever met. She's really good with cutting wood. She even shot an arrow directly at the fish in the river.
She's really cool but also depressing. She doesn't have any other friends and doesn't even go to school. Her mom died first, which is the reason she stopped going to school. So that she'll spend more time with her dad just like with her mom. She didn't want any friends. She only wanted her mom and dad and they're enough for her. Until she lost them. They were everything to her. But as time goes, she moved on and came here.
I knew how she fought the creatures with Brandon. At first I thought she was lost like me too but she's much stronger than I'd think. She told me she got a robot spirit within her spirit. A fusion. She can form into the form of her spiritual companion. Her name was Athena and in every single dream she kept coming over in her dreams, babbling random stuff. She's inside of her head, which means she's the everyday annoying voice in her mind that she cannot get away from. I felt bad for her at first but she shrugged it off, saying. "But hey, we got along with each other. Even that I don't like her at first, she's a person too."
One day, we went to the woods at night with our flash lights. It was horrifying for me because we could get lost so easily here. Sweat poured down on my forehead as we kept walking into the woods. Until suddenly, a bright blue light in front of us glows in the night. When we approached the light, it was the pond.
The pond was glowing the same light as Brandon's. This never happened ever in every night or day. Unless he did something or he somehow resides there. But I don't feel like he's there. But I can feel something else.
We walked to the jetty until we stopped near the edge. The pond is as beautiful as I remember with the blue shiny fishes swimming around it. I wonder what happens if I put my hand in the pond. Will I feel something warm or something else. Maybe my arm will glow. I don't know. But then something grew within my soul. A connection. As if the pond wants me to put my hand in. It felt amusing.
So I did it without hesitation. It felt warm as I swim my right hand in the water. The water suddenly jumped on my arm. I thought I was going to panic but I didn't flinch. Instead I let it do what it does. Judith tried to pull me away but I told her not to. She then watched as the glow of the pond gathered around the water that is holding my arm. I felt a great sensation of warmth and heat. I felt a stinging pain all over my arm but it quickly turned into a cold feeling.
All of the glow of the blue flame from the pond is now on my arm, glowing as small flames flew up from my arm, just like Brandon's head of flames. As the glow fades away, I can see clearly that my arm is stained with bright blue.
The pond is now empty of normal water and the fish swims peacefully. We were both shocked as to what happened. Did the glow of Brandon's flames just fused with my arm? I can definitely feel the power from my arm coursing with my soul. "How did it feel?"
"It felt like, painful at first but went normal. I don't know." A realization hit me that I forgot where my flashlight was. I looked to find nothing. Judith helped me out by lighting around the place but it wasn't enough. Suddenly, I felt something in my arm. I lift my hand up and gripped tight, making a bold fist. When I opened my hand, a bright blue flame appeared before me. A bright orb of blue flame glowing our surroundings.
It's as if I knew what I was doing. It's like my soul is connected to this power. When I looked at Judith, her face was a surprised look. I'm surprised as well. So I think I have Brandons powers now. I think I know the reason the glow came tonight. Brandon gave me his powers because what's the point in keeping them when he's living in a peaceful life. I understand now.
I looked around and found my flashlight dropped in the pond. I was frightened that it could've electrocuted the fishes but it didn't. I wasn't paying any attention to it. Accidentally dropping my flashlight. But it looked to be drained off somehow. When I was grabbing in for it, the pond created a vortex beneath the touch of my right palm.
It was shockingly beautiful to watch. The vortex flows so smoothly. I then put my foot on the ground and the pond made space for me to be able to move around. The fish swims all around the pond as I stepped on the ground of the pond beneath me. It was dry. All dry. I grabbed my flashlight and looked up to the jetty. To Judith. With a smile on her face, she said. "This is so cool."
I smiled back as the pond begins to glow and my right hand glows with blue the blue flames. I stand on the ground of the pond my old friend and I loved going to. I have the gift from Brandon and now, I think I'll use this power for good.
I looked up into the night sky, watching the stars shine above whilst a shooting star appeared with them.
I'll be strong Brandon. I'll overcome every obstacle I come across and overcome the suffering. I'll be strong for who I am. And no one is going to stand in my way of doing that.
submitted by Plushytoonz to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 08:33 ProfessionalHumor933 The Haunted Diaries stories part 1

This summer vacation rosy and her family went to their ancestral home in New Jersey their was rumors that the house was built by her ancestors for hiding their black magic in 1896 many children were went missing near the house but one day a person saw one of the people who lived their murrding 2 children and performing a spell the person ran to the village and told every people and the village people went to the house and saw blood dripping from. The house 2nd floor the killed many family members the beeged for forgiveness but the village people didn't show mercy so the family gave them a curse that no one will never come to this house if someone comes they will die so many years no one came but rosy grand father bought this home but his grand father died very soon after he bought the house he left the house to rosy but rosy didn't believe in this story he and her husband went to the house and stayed they planned to stay there for a long time but rosy husband went for a business trip so rosy was alone in the house but one day rosy heard some thing in the 2nd floor she slowly went to 2nd floor and opens the door and some energy pulls her from Bhiend and claws her throat and kills her her husband attends her funeral she was buried under the houses back yard the ghost smiles and leaves for his home killing one more person.
submitted by ProfessionalHumor933 to storiesman [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 08:21 Accurate-Machine6901 Wanting to see last will and testament 6+ months after

My grandmother passed away late November. My sister (now 18soon to be 19) was her golden grandchild child and lived with her for about 2 years soon before she passed but moved to the city a few months before the passing to get away from our aunt while grandma was away in the hospital. Our GM(grandmother) told her she would be leaving her car and some sentimental affects to her as she knew she was near the end of her life (in cancer remission but weaker and feeling her age more than ever).
GM passed and A(aunty) said she had the car towed and all of grandmother's things thrown away including the personal items sister left. The thing is someone who knows S(sister) said they saw aunty breaking the windows of the car a month ago and there's glass all over but no one looked into the trailer to check for the items being thrown away as A just told her that. A says nothing was left to S in the will and that S is nasty to contact her about this and not to connect with her. A didn't even let S know GM passed, one of GMs good friends let her know. Didn't tell her any funeral details and S had to find out via online posts and confirm with GMs friends. A is bitter that S didn't take on more responsibility with my GMs dogs.
We are young and poor and have no idea what to even do. I don't think I'll get anything as my GM and I had a tense relationship but her and S were extremely close, unsure about other grandchildren as one sibling was close with her but not as close as S and the other had a relationship that was marginally better than mine. S deserves her childhood instruments and toys and personal items she left and sentimental items from GM. A says she was fully left out of the will and is refusing to let her see the will at all. What can we do, where do we go? Can we formally request to see the will? What if one wasn't left?
If there is a will is there any way we can see it even if A doesn't want us to?
Some maybe irrelevant background: The summer of a huge surgery for my GM, S had a military boot camp for 6 weeks then another 3or4 week camp that was extremely difficult to get into. My GM had multiple dogs and S took care of them while she was in and out of the hospital in the year before the surgery. After the huge surgery GM came back home but then fell and went back to hospital soon before S's camp and A had to look after the dogs. GM was very frail and had to stay in the hospital indefinitely. When S returned after 6 weeks A was furious that S wasnt taking care of GM's home or dogs while she was in the hospital and called her selfish for leaving to do her own thing. A lives in the same neighborhood but the dogs were quite old and required lots of care and A is retired. She made it so S couldn't go to her second more important camp and was controlling the internet in my grandmothers home(small town and limited public wifi and no cell service) and coming over to yell at my sister about chores (nothing nasty just not spick and span like grandma used to punish her kids and us grandkids before she softened). S moved out to the big city away from A and A is super bitter towards S for not taking responsibility and running away. GM said S could leave things when she moved as she didn't have a moving truck rental just a family friend with a truck who drove her 6+ hours and so obviously could only do one trip.A hasn't talked to her since GMs passing and says everything was chucked and that S is evil for even bringing this up after GMs death
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2023.06.02 08:15 Mcmuffin4353 Advice Desperately Requested!!

Hi all, this is my first post here as well as my first time here at all.
I desperately need help. To summarize the history of my dog, after my dad and two beloved dogs died in a two year span, I finally convinced my mom to let me get my own dog, a golden retriever named Tusk. This dog has gone with me through everything, and is truly the reason I am still here to this day.
To provide an incredibly brief history that leads to today: got Tusk 6 (emphasis on he’s only 6!!!) years ago as a sophomore in high school, my mom refused to let me take him with me to WI for college, she got him neutered in my sophomore year of college, vet told her to either decrease food intake or increase exercise, she did neither, he went from a perfect specimen of a golden to a tank, I came home (GA) periodically throughout college to see the family and Tusk, he gained significant weight, I finally moved back home after graduating following my junior year (May ‘22), begged to take him (I moved back to GA, 45 min drive from my mom), she refused (supposed emotional trauma, heavy emphasis on the ‘supposed’), Tusk now weighs 126 lbs and she still refuses to let me take him.
After I went to college, my mom moved in with her sister and her two (overfed) schnauzers. I’ve seen her, and Tusk, several times since moving back to GA (a yearish ago), and he just keeps getting bigger. She asked me to dogsit him and her sisters two dogs this week, and of course I obliged. However, it’s absolutely thrown me over the edge. I cannot sit by and listen to my mom justify feeding Tusk 4 CUPS of dog food a day because “he eats every kibble I put in his food, therefore he must be starving!” No shit, if you put food in a dog’s bowl, they’re more than likely going to eat it. Especially when they’re a fat fucking tank like Tusk. It is worth mentioning that after I graduated moved in with my aunt/mom temporarily, I took Tusk to the dog park every single day. However, because of how much weight he has to haul on his skeleton, he no longer had the energy to play like he once did. After taking him for several weeks straight, he was able to get up and play with other dogs for a few minutes, only to lay back down at my feet and pant incessantly.
All of this to say, I desperately need help. I am at the point where I don’t care if I burn familial ties, Tusk deserves SO much better than what he is currently receiving. My mom and aunt get defensive when his weight is brought up, and I can’t do it anymore. Tusk is truly one of the greatest gifts God has ever bestowed upon me, and it’s time I give it back to him. I’m planning on taking him in the most amenable way possible, but im sure “amenable” is not going to happen.
Regardless, obviously I understand the concept that at this point, I need to feed him less and exercise him more. However, is there anything else out there that can expedite the process of getting him in way better shape? I am beyond happy to hire professionals, but I don’t even know where to begin. Again, he’s insanely lazy. To add an additional layer, I fear that if he overexerts himself, he’ll suffer a stroke/heart attack/dog equivalent. I am desperate to get him help. He is the most precious soul and has done so much for me. I apologize for the redundancy, but I’d give the world for him. I would love any additional direction or advice. Please please feel free to share anything at all. I sincerely appreciate your time and thoughts in advance.
https://imgur.com/a/o7CRnm https://i.imgur.com/zqUyX2s.jpg https://i.imgur.com/AyPK5kM.jpg
Added a pic of Tusk when he was healthy vs. him about a year ago, and then one now. Hopefully they all uploaded. Please help me care for him the way I owe it to him :((((
submitted by Mcmuffin4353 to goldenretrievers [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 07:12 omcthrowaway999212 Recording conversations in Oregon: Does ORS 165.540(3) create an exception for recordings of face-to-face conversations (that you're a part of) in your home?

I'm reading the Oregon Court of Appeals decision here, and it covers the janky process that led us to having an exception for "subscribers and their families, within their homes." They don't define what a subscriber is because the language was written back when the law only applied to telecommunications. But they kept it that way even after expanding the law to cover in-person communications, and now it sounds like if you're "a subscriber," you can record in-person conversations without informing the other participants as long as you're in your own home.
Is that right? In State v. Rainey, the issue was whether or not the exception applies to recordings in the home or conversations in the home, which suggests the underlying issue of recording someone without informing them wasn't in question as long as the conversation was applicable. But every breakdown of Oregon's recording law that I've found seems to either miss this exception or have some take on it that I don't understand. With all the ambiguity around the wording of 165.540(3), if someone could just confirm whether or not I have it right, I'd appreciate it. It just seems so goofy to think "yeah, if you or your family member subscribes to something, it counts," but that does seem to be the implication.
submitted by omcthrowaway999212 to legaladvice [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 05:18 RamenInTheSheets I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off

I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off
So firstly, before I get into it - Linus is 100% not based off this man - but I'm sure a lot of us have characters in this game that resembles real-life people we know.
Anyway! Nobby! He was a lovely man that loved to keep to himself. He was pretty much " famous" in my town for the sole fact he lived in a bus stop.
https://preview.redd.it/fbum03lbni3b1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=0906968b45b7dab66c8c9fa1dbc9b58eb66b69b9
People respected him, and respected his space. No one would go into the bus stop, unless it was raining and then he would welcome people in. It was just little shelter but it was his home all year round. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter - he would always be there.
The bus stop was also located right by a lake, on lucky days you'd might see Nobby taking a dip or a bath in it (I'm not even joking this actually happened and everyone at my school would say it was good luck). He was always dressed when he did this, and if he ever needed to change or anything I believe he would do this behind his home, not sure on that though.
Everyone had a story of Nobby, even me.
The first came from when I was a kid in the 90s. Me and my mum would get the bus outside his home all the time to go into town - and one time I decided to give him my pocket money so he could buy himself a McDonalds (it wasn't a lot only £1.99). A week later when we went to get the bus, he showed me the toy he got in the happy meal and he gave it to me as a gift. If I remember correctly it was a Space Jam toy, but I could be wrong).
My second moment was probably one of the most influential in my life. My school was near by and I would skip lessons and go hang by the lake, as we did back then. At one point I started "seeing" this guy - we were both young teens (13? maybe younger) and still figuring things out and not really knowing that we were gay. We just knew we liked to spend time together, holding hands, play fighting and even kissing.
We'd always do these things by the lake in a hidden area type part one day Nobby caught us. We were both shocked and didn't know how to react. All we were doing was holding hands, but as young queers at that point of time - we didn't think it was right or acceptable.
But Nobby simply smiled and said "it's okay" and walked off. We both left right aware and it did actually lead to us calling off whatever we were doing. But his simple comment left an impression on me and helped me come to terms with my identity.
As I got older I would go to his shelter to talk to him before getting the bus home. He never would really say much and I never really got to learn anything about him, but I did notice that whenever I or someone would talk to him, he would finish with "Thank you for talking to me".
Airel view of his home and the lake - both very close by a bit like Linus and the mountain lake
(Image pulled from google maps)
before anyone points it out, I know the bus shelter in this image looks different to the more recent one, but I will explain that
On multiple occasions, people tried to offer him help - by offering a place to live, from private tennats to the council, but he remained at the bus stop.
There really wasn't a lot known about Nobby apart from his name, that he liked to keep to himself, and that he was happy with where he was living.
There were LOADS of rumours as to why he lived there. Some people speculated that he had lost his family to a fire and now had a phobia of living in doors, others speculated he was just a hippie and "one with nature". In reality, no one really knew for sure and as far as I'm aware, no one found out.
There was even speculation around his name, in the 70's he was known as Ned, at one point this became Ted. Others knew him as Michale and David - but again no one know for a fact.
(I don't think anyone even knew if he had any family or anything).
One thing we can say is he lived at this bus stop for a long time. As mentioned he first moved in during the 70's - and he stayed there until the early 2000's.
He actually became so well known in my town that the bus stop was even given it's postcode/address.
https://preview.redd.it/3h9ctycaqi3b1.png?width=1019&format=png&auto=webp&s=c66f0cf524bc9a4fb6a84b4cbbfe74b60fa6b496
In 2005 some assholes destroyed his home. They trashed his stuff but even worse, they set it on fire - I couldn't find an image of the damage they did but it was bad. After this happened, the local community came together - my school and others hosted fundraisers and ultimately a local church got to work and rebuilt his home.
One step further, a local double glazing company fitted the shelter with the two windows you can see on google maps today - they even offered to fit a fourth wall and a door, but nobby declined this offer. He was happy having his shelter as it was.
He would attend local festivals and events but as I mentioned, he would really keep to himself.
https://preview.redd.it/i426idrdri3b1.png?width=786&format=png&auto=webp&s=6eec3d64b9ab440d41a9aad570e81da5b178918f
In 2006, due his declining health he finally took on the offer to move into a house. The council got him moved into a one-bedroom place quite quickly and he remained there until 2020 - when he sadly passed away.
I'm not too sure on who covered the cost for his funeral and the turnout was small however his memory was not forgotten.
A memorial was set up locally and the shelter now has a plaque that dedicates that space to him.
But anyway, that's the story of Nobby. The local homeless man that reminds me of Linus. I hope you've been able to see the links and connections to him.
He was an amazingly lovely man and I hope his memory is never forgotten.
​
https://preview.redd.it/m7iokptivi3b1.png?width=1039&format=png&auto=webp&s=1d93ddfd6629903c00040c8bd3c301cfadad5ec2
Couple of links for sources and proof:https://www.peterboroughimages.co.uk/nobby-the-tramp/https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/final-farewell-to-peterboroughs-nobby-2503630https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/calls-to-honour-memory-of-peterboroughs-nobby-2210060
Edit: Just adding in some more details below, a couple of folk asked me to get picture of the plaque so I went and did so!
So the plaque confirms his name as Micahel Ross - I did read some sources that disputed this, but I am guessing after he moved into his own place this was the name he went by.
https://preview.redd.it/rsa5a4z1sm3b1.png?width=4032&format=png&auto=webp&s=3773b7d7b770197dbffa48cf05f61ee266e75d59
The next two pictures are of the nearby lake, the first one being what he would use as a little hideaway area so he could bath and wash things. The second pic is the more opened up area.
If you zoom in you'll see some baby geese.
https://preview.redd.it/f6l682rgsm3b1.png?width=3345&format=png&auto=webp&s=a032e2b76c9394b299963bc948d38cf925addacb
https://preview.redd.it/bx30nvsism3b1.png?width=4032&format=png&auto=webp&s=598c32ea454c8fde86cca133de79d820b8f39b64
I forgot to mention in my post originally, but just like Linus and his place - within walking distance there is also a very small traintrack and station. It wasn't open so I couldn't go in to take any pictures but I leant over the gate to grab some.
https://preview.redd.it/wq1qdaqssm3b1.png?width=4032&format=png&auto=webp&s=5cb1231492ba37f3d10cb121a24328f2847e6f75
https://preview.redd.it/8sx75e5vsm3b1.png?width=4032&format=png&auto=webp&s=07b077baf7ae8fe29c0346c60f19a1906a983eb3
But yeah that's everything! Thank you everyone for reading about Nobby - I'm so happy to see that his memory is going to live on through others as well! He was such a lovely man and deserved to be honoured.
I did try to find the memorial, I remember hearing there was going to be a tree or something planted, but I wasn't able to locate this and I think it may have not happened due to Covid.
I have asked in the PeterboroughUk sub to see if anyone knows but we will see!
Thank you again for reading about Nobby!
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2023.06.02 04:50 funeralclient McReynolds Nave and Larson Funeral Home

Welcome to McReynold’s-Nave & Larson Funeral Home

For more than 100 years, McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home in Clarksville, TN has been serving the families of greater Montgomery and Houston county. We are one of the many funeral homes in Clarksville, TN who understand the importance of offering quality services. From start to finish, your family can trust that our caring and knowledgeable staff will be here to assist you every step of the way. We offer affordably priced funeral, cremation, and memorial services that are designed to meet your family’s needs and budget.
With two locations to serve you, our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN can help you honor your loved one and say goodbye. Each year we help hundreds of families in the area say meaningful goodbyes to their departed loved ones.
Our staff is comprised of some the most experienced, knowledgeable, and caring funeral professionals in the industry. We understand that the loss of a loved one is a difficult time for a family. Our compassionate team will work hard to help you arrange a service that not only celebrates the legacy of your loved one but also provides your family with the closure and goodbye you need. From the first call to long after the service has ended, our team will be here to provide you with the resources and guidance you need.
We pledge to honor your loved one with dignity, respect, and personal attention to every detail. With two beautiful facilities, 24/7 service, and caring and knowledgeable staff; we are confident your family will have peace of mind in knowing that our family will be here for you when you need us.
To learn more about our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN, please browse our site. Throughout it you will find helpful resources and information to help you cope with loss and say goodbye. If you have any questions about our services or how we can assist you, please do not hesitate to contact us. We can be reached by phone or email at any time.

What Makes Us Unique

We are proud to embrace traditional values, diversity and innovation in honoring the spirit and life of each person we serve. We offer a full selection of:
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  3. Celebrant Services
Letting go of a loved one is usually a very difficult process. In order to provide your family peace-of-mind, our funeral home offers complete care, so you can focus on comforting each other as you prepare to say goodbye to someone dear to you.

Our Complete Funeral Service Package

In most cases, a family will choose to hold a complete funeral service to honor their loved one. This is commonly referred to as a traditional funeral service and includes a visitation, funeral service, committal, and reception.
For this funeral arrangement, guests will have the opportunity to host a visitation the evening prior to the service and up to the hour of service on the day of the funeral. After the visitation, a funeral service will be held at either the funeral home or a church the deceased held membership with. Immediately following the conclusion of the funeral service, the remains will be transported to a local cemetery for burial. Following the funeral service, guests are encouraged to stay for a reception where they can offer condolences and share memories of the deceased over refreshments and snacks.
Our affordable funeral service pricing for this package includes everything mentioned above. Please keep in mind that your family will be responsible for additional expenses like the casket, grave liner and monument. If you have any questions about our funeral service pricing or payment options, a member of our staff would be happy to assist you.
Our caring and professional staff would be happy to meet with you and discuss the different packages we have available. From there, we will work with you to personalize the funeral arrangements and pay tribute to the deceased with dignity and respect.
Our funeral service professionals can tailor services to suit any specific desires or needs of the families we serve. For further information or specific pricing, please consult with one of our funeral directors by visiting us or by calling us.
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Why Choose Burial?

One of the most common questions we get asked is “why choose burial over cremation?”. If you are undecided we have provided a list of benefits of choosing burial to help simplify your decision. There is a wide variety of reasons why someone would choose burial, however the reasons listed below are what we have found to be the most common.
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Affordable Cremation

Part of making funeral arrangements on behalf of a loved one involves choosing between burial of the body, or cremation. Certainly this is a big decision, based on any number of factors: religious or spiritual beliefs, finances, or ecological awareness are just some of the reasons we’ve heard for choosing cremation. Before you can make the choice, you need to know exactly what it is you’re considering. If you’re wondering “what is cremation?”, you can learn the basics below. If the content here raises additional questions for you, please give us a call. One of our cremation specialists will address any of your inquiries or concerns.
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Celebration of Life Services

More and more families are choosing to hold ceremonies that celebrate the life and personality of their loved one. A celebration of life ceremony acts as an alternative to a traditional funeral ceremony. It achieves the same purposes as a traditional funeral by gathering family and friends to pay tribute to the deceased. A celebration of life has a more uplifting atmosphere that reflects on positive stories and memories that involved your loved one. The major benefit of a celebration of life is that it allows you the freedom to best display your loved one’s personality, values, and passions, in whichever way you see fit.
The best way to start planning a celebration of life is to begin doing so while your loved one is still with you. This way you have the chance to ask them, “how do you want to be remembered?”, “what are you most passionate about?”, and “what would you like your celebration of life to include?”. This way you are not left guessing what your loved one would’ve wanted when it comes time to plan the celebration of life service.Contact Our Funeral Home in Clarksville, Tennessee
McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home
Address: 1209 Madison Street Clarksville, TN 37040 Phone: 931-647-3371
Fax: 931-647-3313
Email: [email protected]
Nave Funeral Home
Address: 4639 West Main St. Erin, TN 37061 Phone: 931-289-4277
Fax: 931-647-3313
Email: [email protected]
Website: https://www.navefuneralhomes.com/
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