Dodge bearings near me

Hello, writers of Reddit! I'm a 26-year-old guy with an aching desire for storytelling and a collection of loose tropes, ideas, and half-thought-out characters that I'm looking for the right couple of partners to help weave together into a wonderfully-crafted, exquisitely detailed narrative tapestry. Of course, that means I'm a little lax on proper details for a prompt, but developing a plot is something we'll get to do together!
A little more about myself before I scribble out a set of themes and plot bunnies I think would be fun to explore via collaborative storytelling: I'm well-versed in Reddit private messages and Discord, and happy to tell a story on either platform! (Just be warned that my Discord posts, as well as my Reddit responses, skew long, and I'm looking for both an undaunted and up-for-the-challenge writing partner in that regard. Think a minimum of 200-300 words, and usually well outstripping that pace.) I've been writing for the better part of a decade, and there are few joys in life as well-realized settings, vibrant casts of side characters, and three-dimensional protagonists. I'm looking for writing partners who are also 20 or older, and are looking for a story that skews lighthearted!
Still with me? Awesome! Here are a handful of narrative concepts near and dear to my heart:
- Embarrassing moment meet-cutes, witty/charming banter, smoldering secret mutual crushes harbored for each other, rivals-to-lovers, magical realism (a big plus if you're willing to include this!), slow-burn romances, cheeky antics, and adorably sweet character moments that undercut the playful enmity.
And, hey! Do you want a starter right away, and to jump right into a story, plunging feet-first into an enjoyable setting and a meet-cute tailor-made for your ideal charming circumstances? I've noticed this fun artists' trend called the Blush Meter, where artsy types will draw a character based on what percent blushy they are. (For example, 10% being quite manageably sweet; 90% being a blushtastic set of scorched cheeks.) If you send me a message expressing interest and a percentage of blushiness, I'll write you a starter with a male lead who is at that mark in the very first scene!
If all or any of that sounds good, please send a message my way with the tropes you'd most want to pursue, and we can start developing a plot together from there!

Some context: I (male) married back in 2020 to a girl I met in college. We'd been dating for 4ish years and had known her for 2 years more. A little after a year into our marriage, I was medically diagnosed with depression.
Now, some of my depression symptoms started maybe a year or two before getting married - gradually increasing apathy & fatigue, and decreasing energy & motivation. I really started noticing it more within the 12 months prior to marriage. It mostly exhibited itself in low energy and lack of motivation despite having a job I loved. Maybe it was because I moved away from a great college life to a city where I didn't know a soul.
So all that's going on... then in 2020, I left said job I loved to move to a town to get married to the girl. Of course, 2020 is going on all the while. Couldn't find a job for a couple months. Eventually got an offer at a job I only kind of wanted, started the week after our wedding (August 2020), and proceeded to be discontent with that job for the next year and a half. Late 2021 came the official diagnosis. Since then, my feelings about my job have improved and I've been promoted and given lots of opportunity, so overall I feel better about my job.
So all that was the context, which gets me to my main point - While depression may have started before our marriage, I think our marriage is sustaining depression. That started shortly after our wedding, when my wife and I started to discover that we can't have s*x. We'd later find out she had a microperforated himen (extra thick and painful tissue with no real opening). About a year later, she had that surgically removed, but the issue didn't resolve as she was also dealing with [email protected] (extreme sensitivity). I was patient, gracious, and loving for a long time, but I've grown impatient and increasingly resentful over nearly 3 years. We've successfully pene+rated only 3 or 4 times, and only one of those was enjoyable for both of us. She also has a much lower s*x drive than me, so my s*xual needs aren't being met, not even close.
Now, I'll be intentionally vague here, but we are also both religious. Because of that, she's not really willing to "explore" alternatives. Also because of our religion, divorce isn't really an option I'll realistically consider, and I knew that going into marriage. Regardless, over the last year or so, divorce has been on my mind constantly. I find myself wishing I'd never married. I miss the life I was starting to build for myself in my last city, because even though I was maybe still dealing with depression, I was enjoying myself there. I had freedom to spend my money and have fun and do what I want, but my wife is very conservative with money and hates when I spend, so I don't feel like I can do anything I want. Somehow I also ignored how different our interests and personalities actually were while we were dating.
So here's what that has to do with depression - I think I was able to manage my depression, even without meds, before we wed. But, I think all these issues we've dealt with have caused my depression to persist, even with meds. I've always been a pretty gracious, understanding, and forgiving person, I think, but I've become so bitter and resentful and full of hate (I'm not sure I've ever actually hated anyone til now)... but I can't divorce. So I just feel super stuck.
Worse, my wife has no idea I feel this way, I don't think. I've told her that some of my depression may be sustained by some of the issues we've dealt with, but she has no idea how resentful I've become of her. And I don't want to say anything, because assuming we stay together, I don't want that fear to hang over her and over our relationship for the rest of our lives. So she thinks everything is fine, while I have no idea how I'm going to deal with this the rest of my life.
I have no f*cking idea how to keep living with this (metaphorically only; thankfully, self-harm hasn't been one of my symptoms).

My wife was recently in an accident in her GX460. The other driver was at fault (confirmed by polish report, dash cam, and even a bystander who stopped and filled out a statement for police). There was nothing she could have done to avoid the accident - first ever wreck in 20 years of driving. Thankfully no one got seriously hurt. Airbags on my wifes vehicle did not deploy, but they did on the other vehicle. The front passenger side of the truck is destroyed, along with the aftermarket suspension on that corner.
The at fault drivers insurance is paying to repair the GX at a reputable body shop (one I picked based on a friend's recommendation as someone in the business). Repairs are estimated around $8k.
I buy and sell most of my cars private party, because I'm a nerd like that. Vehicles without a clean carfax nearly always take a fairly substantial hit in value, especially to vehicles with a cult following - as the GX does in the off-road community.
Is it unreasonable of me to expect the at-fault insurance to pay for the reduced value of the car due to the accident?
What type of reduction do you typically see?
How would I go about establishing a fair value for this? Or should I just suck it up and move on?

I started taking levofloxacin about 3 weeks ago for a sinus infection (I had a lot of jaw pain/pressure and sinus issues). I made a mistake however, and was taking double the dose of levofloxacin (1500mg) for the first 8 or 9 days. I told my doctor and he told me to just take 1 tablet for the remaining 5 or 6 days. While I was taking the double dose, I had no issue with pain (there was some light headedness and slight dizziness. But if I ate, it went away). However, two days before i finished the 2week course, I had gone running/sprinting. I had no issues. But the day after, I went to my martial arts class. I had a lot of pain on my left foot. The middle of the left side of the foot (not the ankle). I wasnt able to get through the whole class, so I went home. The next day, I had very bad pain. I was limping everywhere I went. I told the Dr, and he said to stop taking the medicine and make an appt if it continues. Its been 5 more days, and the pain is still there. I will see the Dr tommorrow.
​
So far, ive used topical lidocaine, ice, and heating pads. Nothing has realyl helped. I also feel like my joints in my elbows, knees, and shoulders are aching (though not nearly as bad as the left foot). I saw some suggestions in this subreddit on vitamins, such as magnesium and coq10. I will get those today.
Any other suggestions? I live a very active lifestyle. So this has been a real drain on my mental health.

Hello, writers of Reddit! I'm a 26-year-old guy with an aching desire for storytelling and a collection of loose tropes, ideas, and half-thought-out characters that I'm looking for the right couple of partners to help weave together into a wonderfully-crafted, exquisitely detailed narrative tapestry. Of course, that means I'm a little lax on proper details for a prompt, but developing a plot is something we'll get to do together!
A little more about myself before I scribble out a set of themes and plot bunnies I think would be fun to explore via collaborative storytelling: I'm well-versed in Reddit private messages and Discord, and happy to tell a story on either platform! (Just be warned that my Discord posts, as well as my Reddit responses, skew long, and I'm looking for both an undaunted and up-for-the-challenge writing partner in that regard. Think a minimum of 200-300 words, and usually well outstripping that pace.) I've been writing for the better part of a decade, and there are few joys in life as well-realized settings, vibrant casts of side characters, and three-dimensional protagonists. I'm looking for writing partners who are also 20 or older, and are looking for a story that skews lighthearted!
Still with me? Awesome! Here are a handful of narrative concepts near and dear to my heart:
- Embarrassing moment meet-cutes, witty/charming banter, smoldering secret mutual crushes harbored for each other, rivals-to-lovers, magical realism (a big plus if you're willing to include this!), slow-burn romances, cheeky antics, and adorably sweet character moments that undercut the playful enmity.
And, hey! Do you want a starter right away, and to jump right into a story, plunging feet-first into an enjoyable setting and a meet-cute tailor-made for your ideal charming circumstances? I've noticed this fun artists' trend called the Blush Meter, where artsy types will draw a character based on what percent blushy they are. (For example, 10% being quite manageably sweet; 90% being a blushtastic set of scorched cheeks.) If you send me a message expressing interest and a percentage of blushiness, I'll write you a starter with a male lead who is at that mark in the very first scene!
If all or any of that sounds good, please send a message my way with the tropes you'd most want to pursue, and we can start developing a plot together from there!

I (20sF) am part of a five member friend group and two of the friends, let’s call them Joanne and Tim, used to be in a relationship. I was always close with Joanne and Tim came into the friend group once they started dating. I’ve known these friends for nearly 4 years.
Tim was very toxic towards Joanne - manipulative, controlling, didn’t respect boundaries etc - and after just over a year of dating Joanne built up the courage to breakup with him. There were many times I listened to Joanne vent and cry about his behaviour and once she admitted to me that it was a matter of “when, not if” they broke up I supported her through this. I was so relieved for Joanne when it finally happened.
Tim and Joanne made a big show of still being friends as they claimed they didn’t want to break up the friend group. Eventually Joanne admitted to me that they had started sleeping together again, and on a group holiday I had the misfortune of walking in on them. I was naturally furious at this as me and Joanne were sharing a room and Tim should not have been there in the first place. Joanne begged my forgiveness and I let it go as I didn’t want to sour the mood while on holiday. In this period Tim was still horrible towards Joanne and she frequently came to me for advice and I began to run out of words as my advice was repeatedly ignored.
Fast forward a year and Tim has recently gotten a new girlfriend. I thought this was a good development as Tim would be less focused on Joanne and I hoped this would give Joanne permission to move on. She claimed that it didn’t bother her that Tim was in a new relationship as they hadn’t been sleeping together for a few months at that stage and that he was free to date whoever he wanted, she was just upset that he had made her promise not to be on Tinder or date anyone else after they broke up as it wasn’t fair on him however he was doing it all along.
We once again went on our annual group holiday and I noticed something odd. Joanne was being very friendly towards Tim - constantly disappearing off with him, putting her head on his shoulder on the plane. He was putting his hand on her knee at dinner, play fighting with her, and they were both constantly whispering to each other and giggling. They would be sending messages to each other on Snapchat at the dinner table and not doing a very good job at hiding it from the group. Whereas Joanne would normally rant and complain about her behaviour, she was unusually quiet about him.
One evening they disappeared away from the spa and when I eventually went up to the hotel room I found Tim and Joanne in the bathroom with the door mostly closed over. I was speechless. Tim instantly came out and held up a roll of toilet roll, claiming he was just borrowing a roll of toilet roll off of us as the cleaners hadn’t put one into the boy’s room that day (one of our other friends had mentioned that earlier in the day to be fair and Joanne had offered them our spare one). Tim joked that I must have PTSD after walking in on them last year and then jovially asked “Threesome?” before walking out laughing. Joanne swore that nothing had happened but it wasn’t a good look.
More recently since returning from holiday we had to attend a funeral. I don’t have a car so I asked Joanne for a lift. She told me she’d be at her family home outside of our city that day as it was at the weekend. I offered to get the train near to where her family live but she responded telling me not to worry as Tim would drive instead, picking me up first before her.
Oddly on the day of the funeral, she was already in the car when Tim arrived at my house. She explained that she decided to stay at her flat in our city without any further context which is surprising as she goes to her family home nearly every weekend. Her family home is on the way to the funeral anyway so it’s not as though her staying in our city was more convenient. As the day went, little comments led me to suspect that he had spent the night at her flat.
I can’t help but feel that they’re still hooking up. It’s confusing as all the evidence of a potential affair is somewhat circumstantial and I haven’t seen them do anything more explicit such as kissing or having sex.
I have been cheated on before myself so I know how much it destroys a person’s self esteem and makes it hard to enter future relationships. I feel if I were to speak up a lot of it could be explained away as just being close friends. I’m also scared that I could have false stories spread about me. I have since left the company we all used to work for and I’m concerned they would spread stories that might damage my professional reputation. Despite this I feel strongly that the new girlfriend deserves to know if Tim is having an affair.
My stance is that I will wait until I see something more physical such as making out before I tell his new girlfriend but I feel very on edge just waiting to witness something
So I come to relationship_advice with the following questions. At what point do I tell the new girlfriend? And is there anyway to go about it without repercussions for myself?
Using a throwaway as I know most of the friend group browse Reddit

I was so demoralized after I failed my first time but now there's nothing but relief.
It's the same route as usual but right now there's a construction zone on Sheppard right near the Drivetest center, so just be sure to slow to 40 when you see it. During my first try (before the construction) my examiner made me do a lane change on Sheppard, but this time my examiner told me to do the lane change on Keele, presumably since there's only one lane right now due to the construction.
Not too sure when the construction will end but if you have your test booked for anytime soon just be on the lookout.

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Hello, writers of Reddit! I'm a 26-year-old guy with an aching desire for storytelling and a collection of loose tropes, ideas, and half-thought-out characters that I'm looking for the right couple of partners to help weave together into a wonderfully-crafted, exquisitely detailed narrative tapestry. Of course, that means I'm a little lax on proper details for a prompt, but developing a plot is something we'll get to do together!
A little more about myself before I scribble out a set of themes and plot bunnies I think would be fun to explore via collaborative storytelling: I'm well-versed in Reddit private messages and Discord, and happy to tell a story on either platform! (Just be warned that my Discord posts, as well as my Reddit responses, skew long, and I'm looking for both an undaunted and up-for-the-challenge writing partner in that regard. Think a minimum of 200-300 words, and usually well outstripping that pace.) I've been writing for the better part of a decade, and there are few joys in life as well-realized settings, vibrant casts of side characters, and three-dimensional protagonists. I'm looking for writing partners who are also 20 or older, and are looking for a story that skews lighthearted!
Still with me? Awesome! Here are a handful of narrative concepts near and dear to my heart:
- Embarrassing moment meet-cutes, witty/charming banter, smoldering secret mutual crushes harbored for each other, rivals-to-lovers, magical realism (a big plus if you're willing to include this!), slow-burn romances, cheeky antics, and adorably sweet character moments that undercut the playful enmity.
And, hey! Do you want a starter right away, and to jump right into a story, plunging feet-first into an enjoyable setting and a meet-cute tailor-made for your ideal charming circumstances? I've noticed this fun artists' trend called the Blush Meter, where artsy types will draw a character based on what percent blushy they are. (For example, 10% being quite manageably sweet; 90% being a blushtastic set of scorched cheeks.) If you send me a message expressing interest and a percentage of blushiness, I'll write you a starter with a male lead who is at that mark in the very first scene!
If all or any of that sounds good, please send a message my way with the tropes you'd most want to pursue, and we can start developing a plot together from there!

Series Page - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
​
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the bright-ness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Over-head, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara de-cided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she real-ised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imper-fectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your ene-mies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chew-ing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to es-cort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure stand-ing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the oth-er man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fan-cier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She re-turned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred dif-ferent times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Re-lief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her fa-ther turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and van-ished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned to-wards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambi-tion in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go stray-ing!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horse-back, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine per-fection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale pas-sageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, glid-ing over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were mov-ing towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall be-low. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot be-low, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sun-light caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Over-head, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tip-toes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, to-wards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurry-ing after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given any-thing to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She low-ered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly wom-an with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly in-to the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, wither-ing under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricate-ly wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon be-low, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about her-self, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curt-sy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow mov-ing across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your fa-ther’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the state-ment.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug un-comfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curt-sied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that mo-ment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.

So hopefully this is allowed...I own 4 loungefly, which I love, but have always gotten them from other places (Disneyworld, BoxLunch). Well they recently has a sale on their website that I couldn't pass up. I ordered a new bag and new minnie ears. The order was placed and I received an email that they would contact me when it shipped.
Well it shipped 2 weeks ago and it stayed in Texas for about 9 days (what USPS tracker said). I went to look today and it said it was suddenly delivered...but not to my address...to a business in my state but nowhere near my town (Virginia). Now loungeflys website says my order data isn't found but I do have the emails to prove purchase accepted and everything.
Idk what to do. I sent an email but now I'm panicking. Just it all seems off.... the way it was handled and the emails and now it's weird...
Anyone who's ordered off the site have similar experiences? Is this normal? Like I'm almost wondering if maybe it's another shipping company, idk...trying to stay positive but just now...ugh.

9mo female labrador retirever - I met the parents and they are lovely/happy standard labs.
My goal was to get a CGC with her, do therapy work, and ultimately train her to work as a psychiatric service dog for my fiance (dentist phobia).
We got her at 8wks and she was socialized well. She was perfect and amazing and loved all dogs, adults, children. Once she was fully vaccinated, we started training in dog friendly stores 2x a week so she could work near people. We took daily walks, and we had playdates at least 1x a week with a new friendly dog. I took her to work with me 4hrs a week so she could hear the bustle of a business and she did great.
She hit 5mo of age and life has been awful. She acts like a completely different dog now. She is so fearful that if she even hears a dog bark or a person talk she gets full hackles and completely shuts down. I can no longer take her to work as she growls at everyone (she'll love them one moment, but if they leave and re-enter the room she gets hackles and barks/growls at them and will cower in the cormer).
We have been working with her for months (desensitization and counter conditioning). We have tried numerous medications under direction of a veterinary behaviorist (all seem to make her more vocal and reactive, like they lower her inhibition to bottle a single emotion, so she just full on explodes). She currently does weekly group training classes and is great in the building, but growls and gets hackles when she sees those same dogs outside of the ring.
I'm so frustrated. She is doing great and then a split second later the world is ending. Last week she was afraid of vehicles (I had to carry her home). I can no longer walk her passed people or dogs because she is getting hackles and shuts down by the sight of them.
I am starting to hate my dog. I was so excited to get her and she did so well, and now I am having daily panic attacks over her. I don't want to rehome her, but I can't continue to do this anymore. I sped 1-2hrs a day catering to her behavior and doing desensitization and counter conditioning. I'm just waiting for the day that she bites my nephews or bites someone as we pass them on the sidewalk.

I (19m) have been friends with my buddy (19m) for 19 years. We were born just a month apart and lived next door to each other. I moved away at 4 but we were able to keep in touch through our parents. When we both got phones at around 13-14 we started to communicate to each a lot more and played video games together nearly everyday. Our relationship has been good and I’ve even made the 3 hour trip from Wisconsin to Indiana to see him a few times over the years.
Recently, we haven’t been talking as much, I didn’t really think of it. We’re both graduating high school and he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing yet and it’s quite stressful for any senior. We actually had the idea to have our grad party together. A few weeks ago I reached out to ask him about it and got no response. Again, it happens sometimes, so about a week ago I reached out again. Again, nothing. So I read of texting him on Snapchat I texted him on IMessage and Instagram. Despite him being “active” on both platforms, no response. I messaged him asking if everything was ok and if I did anything wrong along with an apology if I did. So finally, I told him it was my last attempt reaching out and again asked if he wanted to talk about it and how friendships need effort to stay strong. Again, nothing.
After being ignored, I reached out to his GF to see if she had any insight. To my surprise, she replied “I don’t think he wants to be your friend anymore.” Of course I asked why, she then said “he doesn’t like the way you make fun of him and try to embarrass him.”
First off I want to say that those feeling are completely valid. I can understand not wanting to be made fun of. Like I said we live in different states so have developed different friend groups. Where I live we just poke fun at each other all the time, that’s just how we are. So when I talk to him I just imagine it’s like talking to my friends at home. He had never said anything to me about not liking the way I treated him so I just assumed that his friend group must be similar to mine. So I kept talking to him the way I do with all my friends, but only when we played video games. It was basically just any trash talking that’d you’d hear when playing a game. “You suck.” “You’re terrible.” Things like that. If we were just talking on FaceTime or texting I wouldn’t say anything like that. We would just have normal conversations.
I’ve struggled with this for a few days and want to know, do I deserve to be ignored and should I just accept that I’m the asshole?

This is a long one but please, I need help.
I have many specific symptoms that I experience daily, all day. Do these symptoms sound like they could be coming from a specific type of medical problem?
Symptoms:

• Constant fatigue, even with a full night's rest
  
• Mild pain in bones and joints when moving them, such as my shoulder or my neck
  
• Dysautonomia or POTS symptoms (heart rate increases to a high amount when standing and drops back to normal when sitting or laying down, and it also increases very high during exercise. i'm also intolerant to exercise and get winded much more quickly than anyone i know)
  
• Moderate pain in knees and feet when running, walking up or down stairs, and even a bit when walking, which makes doing these things very uncomfortable
  
• Brain fog, forgetfulness, distraction (I thought this was ADHD, but I realised it could be brain fog caused by a health issue)
  
• Constant twitching/vibrating in calves and bottom of feet
  
• Relatively constant twitching in random places over entire body, usually triggered by movement
  
• Severe flat feet
  
• Instability when standing up still, swaying a bit in random directions (flat feet?)
  
• "Duck" feet, meaning they point outwards to the left and right despite my knees being forward
  
• Mild tinnitus
  
• Mild blurry vision (is fixed with glasses)
  
• Sometimes when staring at things, if I look closely they seem as if they are moving, kind of like water rippling in an ocean from a top down view
  
• Recently, when I visited an optometrist and ophthalmologist, they said my eyes were normal apart from my blurry vision, but they also made a short comment saying something about me having "chronic rhinitis" or "chronic allergies" or something (they didn't make it sound like it was a big deal)
  
• Nose is constantly a little bit stuffy
  
• Overly spaced teeth, overjet and overbite, as well as two extra (supernumerary) teeth below my front bottom row which were recently removed
  
• Jaw pain when opening wide, makes crunching noises
  
• Mild headaches
  
• Indigestion (bad diet?)
  
• Minor dip/depression in sternum (pectus excavatum)
  
• Bubbly urine
  
• Sebahorric dermatitis or some other skin condition in my scalp that causes itching and dandruff flakes
  
• Sometimes when nearing sleep I hear voices, often calling my name
  
• Severe depression
  

So far I've gotten an electrocardiogram, echocardiogram, chest x-ray, my eyes tested by an optometrist and ophthalmologist, a CBC blood test, and a urine test to check my kidneys. All were normal.
Please help me out, my life kinda sucks having to deal with all of this. The worst out of all of these is my constant exhaustion, followed shortly by my depression, knee and foot pain, brain fog, and my dysautonomia symptoms. They've seriously been ruining my life.

Kind of hoping they do. My school has nearly screwed me over with the scale it uses. Pretty much I’ve only ever taken honors classes and 2 aps. My lowest grade ever has been an A and I have a 4.1w. Does anyone know if schools will recalculate gpas so that they’re on their own scale and they don’t have tons of gpas in all different scales like 5.0, 4.0, /100, etc. thanks.

I don't have a lot of access to yarn stores near me (only 1 but they only carry one type of yarn) and I was wondering what your favorite places to buy yarn are? I've just been using hobby lobby or Michaels (only buying their mostly wool or alpaca yarns) and don't know where to start.

Learnings from a first timer :
I quit my job in Nov, travelled overseas for a while and started prep from Nov. As of 28 May morning, i had put in 1463 hours into my attempt (yeah i measured every single minute) . I am expecting 100+ in paper 1 and on brink (fingers crossed) in paper 2 and might fail in just average to worst case.
Here are my learnings:
​

1. PERFORM PERFORM PERFORM : You have to perform in those exam hours. Knowledge, books etc ARE helpful but only till a point. IT ALL BOILS DOWN TO YOUR PREPARATION AND HOW YOU WRITE THE EXAM. Writing the exam is a CRITICAL skill that no book or coaching will teach, CAN TEACH AND ARE PERHAPS - INCAPABLE TO TEACH. EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT CONTENT AND OUTCOME - NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THE PROCESS YOU SHOULD PURSUE TO DIGEST THE CONTENT AND ARRIVE AT THE DESIRED OUTCOME. Everyone can solve a paper afterwards - but doing so in those 4 hours IN THE EXAM HALL counts. IN THE HALL, have to perform like a machine with RAW UNADULTERATED RUTHLESS FOCUS. YOU SHOULD NOT MAKE MISTAKES - AND NOT PANIC WHEN YOU FIND YOU MADE SOME. If you panic, you should know how to calm yourself down. Easy said than done but this should form a major portion of the preparation. In the end, its not about from where the paper comes, but how you do in whichever paper comes.
2. PLANNING : You have to have a plan - for difficult paper, easy paper and what will you do in each case and what if all plans fail and at the same time not to over plan. You have to take crucial decisions in exam hall in case the paper is a googly. You have to remind of what has to be done in every case and what has to abstained from in ANY circumstance. You have to train to control your emotions and apprehensions. I remember story about a person from IITB(my sister went there, i didn’t) who used to set alarms in night and write an answer and then sleep. He would evaluate it in morning. He wanted to get an idea of how he would perform. That is the level of dedication you are up against. so better plan.
3. MIND OVER MATTER : This is another overlooked factor and most important in my opinion. It is not about strategy x or strategy Y. Its about keeping your cool and self mastery. You should see that you have an effective response to probable contingencies. I saw a video of a guy emotional after screwing up interview. I feel you bro, but you just let your emotions get the better of you. So many hours wasted over a moment of laxity. As for me, I felt the pressure in CSAT after i could solve only 15 in first hour, ended up doing some stupid mistakes due to that and on the brink currently. IMO, You have to be so strong as not to crumble in the cumulative weight of your untamed expectations. YES EVERYONE IS EXPECTING, EVERYONE IS HOPEFUL, but you have to detach yourself from everything and perform when the bell rings. Remember, only your actions can free you from these petty distractions. Watching LBSNAA and royal entry videos will only condition you and attach you to what should be done REALLY SURGICALLY, DISPASSIONATELY AND METHODICALLY. Truly great ones add a factor of delight with their process while performing. Without optimum performance, you can never beat the best. AND REMEMBER, ONLY THE BEST MAKE THE CUT. MY SENIOR IN SERVICES TOLD ME - ONE MISTAKE AND YOU LOSE A RANK, TWO MISTAKES YOU WILL MISS THE CUT OFF. DON’T LET THIS EXAM BECOME THE BOULDER OF SISYPHUS.
4. CONSTRAINED PREPARATION: I feel preparation should always be constrained. In prelims, you must complete the exam in 2 hours. While preparing in mocks, i set random alarms in between to simulate the times invigilator would interrupt me. I took printout of OMR. I sat near window in afternoon to simulate the case where my seat would be near a sunny window in afternoon. I woke up after sleeping three hours to check how i perform in mocks if i am not able to sleep on night before prelims. I really poured my heart out and still i am not sure. That’s how this exam is. Asymptotic scale and a gazillion probabilities - but only 2 outcomes. In Mains, you must write answers fast. If you don’t complete the paper in time, you are done. In Interview, you must calm yourself in the time and sing when your turn comes - without letting your emotions get better of you. I say we should also learn to control ourselves within a timeframe. So, the question is - WHEN THE EXAM PERFORMANCE CONDITIONS ARE CONSTRAINED, WHY SHOULDN’T THE PREPARATION BE? Quality folks will say do everything with quality, relax and read a book till you touch its soul - i say do the job in the stipulated time with desired quality. There is no end to quality. You just must reach the quality UPSC desires. Time is the REAL thing. THERE IS ALWAYS THIS CONSTRAINT OF TIME that will haunt us through our journey. At any given time, you HAVE TO DELIVER IN A STIPULATED TIME. You can study all books in the world you want, do everything XYZ sir recommends but if IT DOESN’T SERVE YOU IN EXAM HALL, I SAY ITS PRETTY DAMN USELESS. PREPARATION SHOULD ALSO BE VERY FUNDAMENTAL.
5. FUNDAMENTALS OVER EVERYTHING: People will always whine how was this paper. People will always do after every paper. Yesterday was difficult, but kinda possible. S wave, P wave - DRC question - Somalia one - Coup one from 2022 PYQ and vision places in news, ballistic missile cruise missile - It had its share of easy ones also. UPSC can never deviate from syllabus. Foundations must be covered in any case. It can never go away from syllabus. There is a truth that is true for a certain time(age). When that truth becomes widely known such that it starts destroying the level playing field UPSC envisages, UPSC changes the game and ushers in a new age. Yesterday’s prelims heralded a new age. Prepare yourself for a series of coaching institutes start the claim game and DISCOVER NEW PATTERN.
6. MARKET ECONOMY: UPSC has a flourishing market around it. Our veterans joined the coaching institutes and good for them. Nowadays, THERE IS LITTLE TRUTH AND TOO MANY LIES PEDDLED. Coaching Wallas also know they will get a new flock of sheep every year, regardless of how many candidates are failing. It's a set business. Only problem is, it is built on the dead aspirations of aspirants who gave it all but didn’t make it. FEW PEOPLE SUCCEED FOLLOWING THEIR ADVICE, but most fail. Some might say, 99% will still fail. But problem is, if you moved from the 1% to 99% due to wrong advice of someone you trusted, is it not their fault? Yes, you are responsible but is it all your fault. The best way to absolve is reflect on your own and find your own truth. STOP BEING THE PLAN B OF PEOPLE. YOU ARE NO MORE THAN A VIEW FOR MOST OF THEM. THEIR STRATEGIES ARE POOR GIMMICKS, THEIR ASSURANCES A JOKE - DROPPED AT THE FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE. STAY CLEAR AND USE THEM - DON’T LET THEM USE YOU.

I have said about “What” above - “HOW” everyone does it and “HOW” diligently we do it determines our fate. I think many successful candidates' folks have crossed IT know it better than me. Hell, i don’t even have a moral responsibility guiding folks when i am still at the gallows - but i thought i should speak what i feel. Let me know if i am wrong. Feel free to add your view guys.
PS : Also comment for flow and coherence guys. Its essay length already.
Yours truly, Fellow aspirant.

I joked a few days ago about Kermit, Gonzo and Fozzie Bear doing a let’s play of the Sadness Saga. This made me realize that those three would make an incredible let’s play group.
Also, just because I feel legally obligated to mention them, the Crane Brothers from Frasier, I feel would also be a fun duo.

I (F22) have been with my boyfriend (M23) for nearly two years. The past 10 months of that have been long distance, following me graduating from college and having to return home to the UK. I have come to the conclusion that this relationship just has no future. Bottom line is, I cannot get a visa to come back to the US and he has no intention of moving to the UK. He cannot meet me in the middle yet still has faith that we can make it work somehow. I love him so much, but it has come to a point where I have to see it for what it is and put myself first. I do not enjoy long distance, and I can’t keep waiting for him.
The trouble right now is that he has a really big work presentation in 2 weeks. He’s been working on it since the beginning of the year and I’m really proud of what he’s done so far and want him to do well. I think that me wanting to break up will come as a surprise to him, and so it would feel cruel to blindside him just before it happens. 2 weeks may seem like a long enough time, but due to our work schedules and being 7 hours time difference, we can only talk via phone/FaceTime on a weekend. I certainly don’t want to break up with him via text or quickly on a lunch break, so this leaves us with only 2 weekend opportunities to talk- and it’s just too close to the big day at this point. I’ve made up my mind that it’s best to wait until after the presentation, but this ‘in between’ part in the meantime is killing me. I don’t know what to talk about, how much to give, whether I’m being too cold/too loving. I don’t mind my discomfort being the payoff for a good presentation for him, but has anyone else been in this situation where you feel like you’re keeping a huge secret? How did you handle it and what would you have done differently?
TL;DR - I’m waiting until after a big event to break up with my boyfriend, how do I deal with the awkwardness of feeling like I’m keeping a secret in the meantime?

Does anyone else feel like they’ll never get “control” over this? I’ve known something is “wrong” with me my whole life and was finally validated when I was committed about 5 years ago and diagnosed with PTSD and Bi-Polar.
It’s been a struggle staying on top of everything, finding psychiatrists, psychologists etc. and sticking with them. I am on medication which mostly helps curb the mania and comes with great labido related side effects!
I’ve only now started to notice the trends with my mania and depression. I’ve lost all of my friends from alienating and manic episodes prior to my diagnosis where I was sure “I was in the right”.
I don’t feel like I’ll ever be able to lead a “normal” life. I go to work everyday which is nearly impossible, I’m a “functioning member of society”, but at this point I’m literally just existing.
No friends, no hobbies I enjoy anymore, no interest in anything at all, all of my relationships are at their wits end, they’ve had enough of it.
Idk why the point of this was, I have no one to talk to, found this group.
Just wanted to say you’re all loved and we need you! Even if you don’t feel that way.