Hey y’all. Here’s my situation: I have many chronic issues, one of them being fibromyalgia, that are made worse by my weight. I’m currently sitting around 210, and I feel horrible all the time. I started exercising somewhat regularly, joined WW, and I started tracking my points daily. Since I started the program in May, I’ve only gained weight. I know weight fluctuates from day-to-day. I have the WW scale and it’s saying that I’ve gained body fat and lost muscle mass, though. Here’s some things potentially complicating my situation: - I am 26, so my metabolism is starting to slow down. - I’m on Lexapro and Wellbutrin for anxiety, depression & PTSD. I’ve never felt better mentally than while taking both of these meds, so stopping them is not really an option. Lexapro is notorious for weight gain. - I’m on hormonal birth control (pill), which also tends to complicate weight loss. I cannot stop this medication due to incredibly painful periods without it. - I am currently balancing full time grad school, a full time job, social events, volunteering, and I’m about to get engaged. Stress is not great for losing weight, I’ve heard.
My goal is to be down 20 lbs by December. Is that reasonable? How do I deal with all these complicating aspects of weight loss? I can’t put my life on hold to lose weight, although I wish I could.

When have they not created controversy?
The language debate has been going on for centuries, and yet, it still manages to garner a lot of attention even today. Whether the attention is positive (rarely) or negative (mostly), it’s there, and I think we need to slow down a little and look at everything we’ve got before giving an opinion.
Many of the complaints are about the fact that anglophones are being refused certain rights or are outright being discriminated against when it comes to receiving provincial services in Quebec. I can’t speak about individuals (because we all know there are some assholes out there, no matter who we’re speaking about), but I can explain the law. And that’s what this post is going to be about.
This series of posts will contain:
- An explanation of the language law (Bill 101 and its recent update, Bill 96), as well as what it means for anglophones, allophones and francophones. (this post)
- An explanation of the OQLF (Office Quebecois de la langue française) as well as what it can do and cannot do. (this post)
- A review of the different language laws of the past (ever wondered what Law 17 was about? Or about what happened in Manitoba during its creation, and after? And what about those laws that Prince Edward Island passed, but of which we don’t have any physical evidence?)
- A little look at Quebec’s position in the past (not a history lesson of course, but I think it can help people understand the province’s position today)
- A link to the different resources I used, if you’d like to read them yourself (a warning however: many will be in French. You can always use Google translate, but please be aware that it may not convey the original meaning)
Moreover, a disclaimer: I am NOT a lawyer or a political analyst, or anything; I’m merely a random person who decided to do some research. I do think my research is accurate, although it is most likely not complete and superficial. I wish I could dig deeper and give you all an amazing analysis, but that’s simply impossible with my current skills. However, I do hope you learn more from this, just like I did, and that it pushes you to investigate further! Don’t hesitate to comment and ask questions, though I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer them all.
I’d like to add that this text is greatly influenced by Wikipédia, so I won’t claim to be the only author of it. However, any translations are my own. In relations to that, please forgive any mistakes that may appear in this text; English isn’t my first language, and though I do claim to be bilingual and to have a general great understanding of the language, I do sometimes forget certain terms, unfortunately.
With that said, let’s jump in!

The controversial Bill 101 and the even-more controversial Bill 96

The first ‘ancestor’ of Bill 101 is Bill 63 which was passed at the of the 1960s in an attempt to solve a conflict opposing French Canadians and Italian immigrants in St-Leonard, or at least, that’s where it started; the conflict then became a provincial-wide issue, and the government was pressured to react to it. While it was supposed to promote the use French, it mostly let allophones have access to English schools, which, considering the time…they took advantage of. Can’t blame them, but it did kind of ruin the purpose of the law.
In the 1970s, the Union nationale (who had passed the law) lost to the Liberals of Robert Bourassa, who then decided to attempt to create a new law in 1974: Bill 22 (again, ‘ancestor’ of Bill 101). They somehow managed to make everyone angry. People who supported the use of only French were mad that English could still be used at work without any limits, and people who supported the right to choose were mad that children needed to pass an English knowledge test before being able to be admitted in an English school. It did, however, make French the official language in the province. But the Liberals were hit hard and lost the elections in 1976.
The winners of the election of 1976 were the Parti Quebecois, the creators of Bill 101. The law is passed in 1977, and while a majority of francophones are happy (an approval rate of 80,6%), anglophones are not. That’s because, by making French the reference language in Quebec, English loses its status of sometimes-dominating language in some neighborhoods, and messes with the linguistic balance (mostly in Montreal). Thus, we have the exodus of anglophones; around 83 000 anglophones choose to leave the province during the mandate of the Parti Quebecois. Many left due to fear and frustration, although it’s worth noting that that’s the sort of speech many anglophone newspapers used at the time.
But was the law really that bad? Did it justify so many people being scared and leaving? Well, we have to look a bit more at Bill 101 to understand. Let’s look at it title by title:
Title 1: Has 9 chapters that say that French is the official language of legislation, justice, administration, parapublic organisms, work, trade & affairs and finally, teaching.
Title 2: Defines 5 fundamentals rights that all Quebecers have, namely.
- Everyone has a right to receive communication in French from all governmental branches, professional orders, employees associations and enterprises established in Québec.
- Everyone has a right to speak in French during deliberative assemblies.
- Everyone has a right to work in French.
- Everyone has a right to be served in French and to be informed in French.
- Everyone admissible to studying in Quebec has a right to receive their education in French.
Title 3: About the linguistic officialization, toponomy and francization of civil administration and enterprises
Title 4: It establishes the Conseil supérieur de la langue française.
Title 5 & 6: Defines the provisions and penal sanctions, as well as various transitional provisions.
Now that we’ve established the different titles, let’s take a look at the different provisions:
Langue de la législation et de la justice (Language of legislation and justice) :
Bills and regulations within the National Assembly, the tribunals and the Quebecois judicial system need to be printed, adopted, and sanctioned in BOTH FRENCH AND ENGLISH. Both versions have the same judicial value. State regulations need to be in both languages, but those from municipalities and school service centers don’t necessarily have to be.
Moreover, in a judicial context, it is a person’s right to express themselves in either French or English, orally or on paper.
Langue de l’administration (Language of the administration):
The government, the ministries and other organisms of public administration need to be designated by the French denomination, and their publications, communications, contracts and display also need to be in French. Moreover, administration employees need to have an appropriate knowledge of French.
Langue des organismes parapublics (Language of parapublic organisms) :
Enterprises of public utility, professional orders and their members need to offer their services and the texts destined to the public in French. They must also freely provide a translation of texts that concern them. Communications with the State, moral people and their members is also in French unless there’s an exception. If you want to be a member of a professional order, you must have an appropriate understanding of French.
Langue du travail (Language of work) :
French is the usual and normal language of work. Employers and unions need to communicate with the employees in French and write their collective conventions in French. Promotions and work offers must also be written in French. An employee cannot be penalized because they don’t have sufficient understanding of a language other than French or require the knowledge of a language other than French to get a job (unless, of course, knowledge of this language is necessary for the job).
Langue du commerce et des affaires (Language of trade and affairs) :
French is mandatory for; containers of a product, wrappings, documents, inscriptions, catalogues, brochures, leaflets, commercial directories, softwares, games, toys, adhesion contracts, contracts and documents attached to them, job application forms, purchase orders, bills, receipts, public displays, commercial publicity and names of businesses (for the last 3, there are some exceptions; for example, certain businesses that have already registered their name with the Canadian government don’t have to add French to their name. Some still choose to).
Langue de l’enseignement maternel, primaire et secondaire (Language of maternal, primary and secondary education) :
French is the language of all three of those. However, children who have at least one Canadian parent who received most of their schooling (primary or secondary) in English in Canada can have access to English schools (Canada clause). For higher education, cegeps and universities need to have a usage and quality policy on the French language.
Various provisions:
French and another language can be used side by side if a certain law doesn’t require the exclusive use of French. This affects the redaction of texts or documents, where French can be used with either one or multiple languages. However, French needs to be at least as EQUALLY visible as the other language(s).
Linguistic officialization:
Ministries and organisms related to the public administration can create committees to evaluate shortcomings when it comes to the use of certain terms. They can suggest the use of more appropriate terms or expressions, who then need to be suggested or normalized by the OQLF. Once that last part is done, those terms/expressions then become mandatory in the public administration.
(Skipping toponymy because this is getting long, but there’s basically a Commission that takes care of all the names of places and the Charter defines their competencies)
(Same for the francization of the administration and enterprises)
Conseil supérieur de la langue française (Superior Council of the French Language) :
The Charter defines their role and their composition. Their role is to advise the minister responsible for the French Language (it’s currently Jean-Francois Roberge, the previous minister of Education).
For sanctions, to quickly go over it: 600$ to 6000$ for physical people and between 1500$ and 20 000$ for moral people (double if they do it again).
And we’re done with the most technical part of this post! We still haven’t gone over Bill 96, but believe me, it’ll be way shorter than that. But we’re still not done with Bill 101, so let’s keep going.
Anglophone and Indigenous minorities have, of course, certain rights that are recognized by the Constitution. Therefore, those rights must be respected and that’s what the Charter does. For example:
- When laws are published in both French and English, both versions are equally valid.
- People can speak to the tribunal in English.
- Judgements can be made available in either French or English, if someone asks for a translation (depends on if the judgment was first released in French or English)
- The law doesn’t apply to Indigenous reserves, but to the local Indigenous language outside of it. That means that outside of the reserve, local Indigenous languages are submitted to the legislation, same as English or any language other than French.
Of course, ever since its adoption, the law was the subject of many controversies and invalidations by the Supreme Court of Canada. Therefore, the Quebec government was forced to change the law accordingly. Other times, the provincial government chose to change without being forced to (like with Bill 96). To go over them quickly:
Law 178: Superior Court of Quebec invalidates dispositions that mandates French as the sole language that can be used on displays. The decision is confirmed in 1988 by the Superior Court of Canada. Robert Bourassa (Quebec Liberal Party) is therefore forced to act and chooses to change the law so that French is still mandatory outside, but can be used alongside other languages inside, as long as it is predominant. He uses the derogation clause. Nobody is happy once again, for completely different reasons, and 3 ministers decide to resign a few days later.
Invalidation of article 73: Now, children from anywhere in Canada can now have access to English schools (before, it was only if their education had been mostly in English in Quebec). The Constitution of 1982 now made it a right for any Canadian to receive education in the minority language of the province. The requirements of the Charter still apply, but now, to a Canada-wide scale. That right is then added to the Charter with Law 86.
Law 86: Without being forced to, the government passes a law that ends the mandatory use of only French in commercial displays. Bilingual displays are authorized if French is visibly dominant. The law also makes sure that judicial services are offered in both French and English, which wasn’t the case before.
- Why it wasn’t the case: When the law was first adopted, it made it so that bills tabled at the National Assembly had to be written in French and trials had to be conducted in French, unless both parties agreed for it to be done in English. Camille Laurin (the father of the law), and the council of ministers knew that those provisions would go against the Constitution (the British North America Act), but that they wanted t o protest against the fact that only Quebec had to provide those services in both languages, as all the other provinces in English Canada were exempted (therefore, only English was fine, no French version was mandatory). The Supreme Court invalidated these articles, and thus, the law was changed.
The next important change is with Bill 96, but before we get to that, we`ve just got a few parts parts left.
Other Countries
Did you know? Other countries were inspired by Quebec’s language policy:
The Baltic countries; to protect their respective languages against Russian. Some complained about a one-way bilingualism, in which, for example, Lithuanians learnt Russian and Lithuanian, but Russians only learnt Russian because there wasn’t a need for them to learn Lithuanian. Mart Rannut, vice-doyen of research at the department of psychology at Tallinn University, in Estonia, has even said (about Bill 101), that it has << touched 1/6 of the planet >>.
Catalonia: The legislation in Quebec had a big impact during the sociopolitical debate about the protection of Catalan against castellan in Spain. Catalan was made mandatory in public function because of a law inspired by Law 101.
China: The country was inspired by the law when they wrote one of their decisions, whose goal was to promote standard mandarin.
Israel: English is perceived as a threat against Hebrew, although for now, the Quebec law has only influenced linguists and a few politicians.
Wales: Law 101 had a big impact in Wales too, but unfortunately, couldn’t be implemented the same way it was in Baltic countries, as Gaelic speakers are a minority in the UK. Colin H. Williams, a professor and researcher at the Gaelic department at Cardiff University, said that many lessons can be learnt from Quebec’s experience.
Porto Rico: A law adopted in 1991 made Spanish the only official language of this place. It was inspired by Law 101. It was repealed in 1993.
Did you expect China to be there? Me neither honestly. According to the same Tallinn researcher, many Soviet countries were inspired by Quebec’s law. However, I haven’t done much research about this, so I won’t go deeper into this (although it’s very interesting to learn about).
Before going further, I’d like to explain the role of an organization that is often mentioned in the media. The so-called ‘language police’, whose role I’ll explain. I’ll also talk about some of the limits they have, as well as a particular incident that many people keep bringing up.
The OQLF (Office québécois de la langue française) :
The OQLF was created in 1961, although it didn’t have as many responsibilities as it does now. Those were expanded in 1977, with the adoption of the Charter of the French language. Because, yes; the OQLF was there way before Law 101.
The organization has many responsibilities, including:
- Making sure the Charter of the French language is respected.
- Keeping an eye on the evolution of French in Quebec and giving a rapport to the minister at least every 5 years.
- Making sure that French is the language used at work, during communications, for trade and affairs. Taking the measures they deem necessary to make sure French is promoted.
- Must help define and elaborate francization programs as is foreseen in the law.
- Can assist and inform compagnies, organisms, and more about better words/terms they can use to make sure they stay up to date with the development of French in Québec.
- Can receive observations and suggestions about what could be done better to develop French and apply the law. Those can then be taken to the minster.
- Must establish the necessary research programs to the application of the law. Can conduct studies they deem necessary for those programs.
- Can conclude agreements and participate in projects with any person or organism.
- Can conclude agreements with a different government than the one in Québec, one of its ministries, and international organization or an organism that is linked to that government. That is possible as long as it follows the law in place in Québec.
While the OQLF’s more ‘active’ role is often the most highlighted, it’s far from the only one they have. And they don’t spend all of their time treating complaints either; finding more appropriate French words, following the evolution of French in the province, assisting compagnies and answering their questions and cooperating with different organizations is what they do the most often.
But since receiving, treating, and acting upon complaints is what they’re most known for, let’s address that.
Most years, the OQLF receives a few thousand complaints. Those complaints are sent by Quebecers who feel like their right to be served in French in Québec is affected. However, the OQLF doesn’t act upon all of these, and even then, most of the complaints they act upon are solved rather quickly. Most don’t make the news.
Many complaints are ignored and considered to be invalid. Others were already solved by the time the OQLF could intervene. Sometimes, the products were immediately taken off the shelf. Finally, sometimes, the complaints were made too late, and could not be treated.
For the fines, those don’t happen too often. For example, in 2006, they were only 127 fines that were given, between 250$ and 5000$.
All in all, there’s not really much ‘police’ in that. And that’s mostly the reality.
Some incidents did get out of hands of course (like the famous Pastagate incident, for which the OQLF admitted having been ‘overzealous’ and for which the head of the organization at the time, Louise Marchand, resigned), but it’s really not common. For most cases in which the complaint was appropriate, compagnies or people simply correct the mistake.
Now, for the part many were probably waiting for, the very, very controversial bill adopted in 2021…

Bill 96

I’m sure everyone (or at least, those who follow the news) remember the multiple debates that happened (and are still happening) about this law adopted around 2 years ago. Articles were written, protests were organized, Indigenous people weren’t happy; it was messy. Some misinformation was even spread around, like the idea that anglophones wouldn’t be able to receive medical services in English anymore (which, to be clear, isn’t true).
What is the truth? What are the lies? What should you be angry at? All the answers you might be seeking are here.
A mini disclaimer before we start this section: I am merely human, and therefore, have an opinion on this subject which I’ve researched as much as I could. Of course, I’ll give you all the facts so that you can then make a decision yourself, but there are some things I personally disagree with (or agree with) that might be more obvious than others. Anyway, let’s start.
What did Bill 96 include?
When it was first introduced, the bill provided for the creation of a French language commissioner (whose designation would have to be approved by 2/3 of the National Assembly) as well as for the creation of a ministry of the French language.
It amended the Charter to change and include certain things:
- Laws can still be adopted in both languages, but when there is a misunderstanding between both versions, the French version will prevail.
- All judgements given in English will have to be translated in French.
- The knowledge of a language other than French cannot be required during the nomination of a provincial judge, unless the justice minister deems it necessary.
- Regulations don’t have to be written in English anymore, because the requirement of bilingualism (of the British North America Act of 1897) didn’t include regulations.
- For schools, English cegeps now have a limit, and can only accept 17,5% of the entire Québécois student population. Non-anglophones students will also have to complete the French exam (mandatory in French cegeps) to receive their diplomas. The student quota doesn’t apply to universities.
- Enterprises that have between 25 and 49 employees will need to obtain a francization certificate, just like enterprises with more than 50 employees. Law 101 will also apply to federal enterprises.
- Bilingual municipalities have their bilingual status removed if their population isn’t mostly anglophone anymore. However, they can ask to maintain that status with a resolution. As of today, all 48 municipalities concerned with this part of the law have adopted such a resolution to keep their status.
- Civil status documents obtained in English in a different Canadian province must be translated. Before, only documents written in a language other than French and English were concerned (so, mostly documents from other countries)
- The preliminary of the Quebec Civil Code is modified to say that it is now interpreted in harmony with the Charter of the French language, and not only with the Quebec Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms.
- Modifies the Profession Code to say that an inability to maintain an appropriate knowledge of French constitutes a derogatory act to the dignity of someone’s profession.
- Modifies the Constitution of 1867 to add the recognition of the Québécois nation and French as its sole official language. Uses the derogatory clause.
- Makes it so that after 6 months, an immigrant will have to communicate with the government in French.
- Gives the power to inspectors in charge of the application of the law to penetrate, at any reasonable hour, in any place aside from a house, where an activity concerned by the law is happening.
Those are most of the changes included in Bill 96. However, the law still has some limits. For example:
- Article 133 of the Constitution of 1867 (concerning the bilingualism of Quebec and the Canadian parliament) cannot be modified without the authorization of the Canadian parliament. Therefore, the part that was added (French is the sole official language of Quebec), is technically not valid. However, I don’t think the federal government intervened as of now (or plans to), so it’s there.
- For article 530 of the criminal code, the protected right to be heard in common law doesn’t actually say that the judge must speak English or even just understand it (the stoppage Société des Acadien c. Association of Parents). However, later, with a different stoppage (R. c. Beaulac), it was declared that the tribunals have to be institutionally bilingual to make sure both official languages can be used. Since criminal law is under federal jurisdiction, Quebec’s attempt to create a unilingual judicial system could meet some obstacles. However, the use of the derogatory clause by the province complicates things.
- It is still a right to receive medical services in English. While Quebec could have attempted to eliminate that right, it didn’t. Same goes for 9-1-1 (fun fact: only Quebec and New-Brunswick are forced to give 9-1-1 services in the minority language of their province. None of the others do), even though Indigenous people and anglophones were worried about that.
​
Bill 96 certainly goes further than the previous version of Bill 101 did, and that has many people worried. I myself don’t completely agree with some of the changes here. But let’s not fall into misinformation, because that helps absolutely no one. Fear and panic are also emotions we should avoid acting upon, no matter if we agree or disagree with the law. And please, no Nazi comparisons; they did much, much worse and I think it’s clear to all (or at least, I hope it is) that the Quebec government is absolutely not on the verge of committing a mass genocide. Accusations like that will only make people go on the defensive and are an obstacle to dialogue. We’ll get nowhere, still be mad and frustrated, and continue the cycle for even longer.
It may sometimes look like this debate will never end, like francophones and anglophones are destined to forever disagree when it comes to language, but in the end, nothing is eternal. I’m sure we’ll get somewhere one day, even if that day is years away.
Anyway, that’ll be it for part 1! Stay tuned for part 2, where we’ll take a look at the different language laws that were once in place in other provinces: Ontario, Manitoba, British-Columbia, even the territories had some! I’ll also do my best to write about the current language laws in the other provinces and compare the situation of Franco-Albertans and Fransaskois (for example) with the situation of anglophones in Québec.
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Sources:
- Wikipédia (https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charte_de_la_langue_fran%C3%A7aise) for most of my information (the site is well-organized and I mostly followed their organization)
- OQLF website (https://www.oqlf.gouv.qc.ca/charte/changementslegislatifs/?gclid=CjwKCAjwrpOiBhBVEiwA_473dKae6mSlJbQPGLgRox_ACQLIs3VDA263wB5RiIMCgE4ubyVlAUOTchoCnZUQAvD_BwE) mostly concerns labour laws
- The Canadian Encyclopedia (https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/farticle/loi-101) bit of history and legal obstacles

It was an older profession, one that had maintained its presence even after the dissolution of the wealthy elite. Butlers were trained to manage a household, to keep things clean and organized by efficiently delegating tasks to workers, to make life as easy for their employers as possible.
There had been a certain degree of prestige attached to the title, even though they were effectively well-trained household managers- both in terms of working to keep things neat and tidy, as well as ensuring everyone was doing their job correctly.
In the past, anyone with the money could train to become one, approximately 15,500 Euros before the Galactic Standard Credit was adopted, albeit this was on the higher end of training.
They were expensive, certainly, but with hoarded wealth returned to circulation and inflation largely taken care of as a result of this, anyone with a decent job could afford one, or if they so chose, become one.
​
Alex had always had a special interest in butlers, a mixture of ADHD and autism contributing more toward this fixation than any of the benefits of the job. He'd always liked helping people, but with the stress of everyday indirect conversation flying over his head- passive aggressive remarks as to what needed done without explicitly stating such being a major contributor- he'd found that a more rigid system of expectations and rules benefited him more.
And as far as his family was concerned, the exact job didn't matter as long as he thrived in it.
The clicking sound of the stimulation device in his hand soothed his nerves as he anxiously awaited meeting with his potential employer. He'd had plenty of practice ignoring that lingering doubt that he'd forgotten to take his medication, even though he was absolutely certain that he had, even so, it wasn't quite enough to avoid the need to stim.
He took a silent, deep breath, fully aware of the sensation of his lungs filling up, the formal vest only slightly constricting against his chest- a pleasant sensation, a gentle pressure- and he exhaled equally silently.
The clicking was subtle enough that most Humans could barely hear it, Alex's hearing wasn't any better than the average Human, it was just more sensitive to specific sounds. He liked the soft clicking.
A knock sounded against the hardwood door, the clicking stopped, the device stowed away surreptitiously as Alex put on his Normal Face.
Meeting with a client was among the most important steps for hiring, it was just like a job interview- and he'd suffered through plenty of those. Stand up, approach the door, open it while-
"Please come in." Alex spoke. He needed to present as good an impression as possible, demonstrate that he was more than capable of doing the job. "May I get you some refreshment, sir?"
Rohirr worked in the government- not the Hedron, everyone knew that could either be the best or worst thing to happen to a political career- but as a local politician in the American state of Oregon, the mayor of Salem.
He'd immigrated to Earth after the Human-Caniti War, having made planetfall and having the best time of his life while his life was on the line, even when he'd been taken as a prisoner of war. The fact that the Humans didn't even bat an eye at his running for mayor didn't even shock him, their species had each other's respect.
After all, the enemy you cannot kill is your best friend.
He regarded the Human in formal business attire with great scrutiny, he could immediately tell the Human was putting up a guarded front, his expression was too stoic, the delivery of his spoken words sounding more like rote memorization than anything natural.
This presented a challenge.
"Tea, and one of those nice little pastries. The one with cucumber." Rohirr rumbled. He was easily twice the height of the Human, some small part of him- probably the part that reared its head only now that his pups were recently born- wanted to pick the Human up by his scruff and sit him on the couch.
The fact that Humans didn't have a scruff didn't occur to him until he was sat down, the Human already in the process of pouring him a cup of tea, the pastries already laid out on a plate.
Efficient, he hadn't even noticed the Human getting everything set up for him.
The Human set the tea pot on a plate designed to prevent heat from leaching into the table and damaging the finish. "Please enjoy, sir. Is there anything else you require before we begin?"
Anything else, huh? What was it the Humans liked to do? "A breeze would be nice." He remarked, trying not to think too hard on if that phrase was too non-specific. The way the Human's expression shifted ever so slightly intrigued Rohirr, there was a moment of silence.
"Of course, sir." He replied, walking over to the window and opening it. A breeze blew in, bringing with it the cool air of a late spring day. The Human looked at Rohirr. "Anything else, sir?"
Rohirr shook his head, and the Human sat down across from him.
Canicians had always appreciated Human military gear for its practical defense, it had stymied the worst of their bites and claws, and had held up surprisingly well to their ballistics and energy-based weaponry. Human business suits were a close second.
The uniform design and the fact that they could be tailored exactly to the wearer's proportions made it moderately popular among more politically-minded Canicians. Plus, the sight of them being torn to shreds after a headed debate was alluring in its own right, but their relatively expensive nature also meant that needlessly fighting in them became too expensive.
They usually wore them both for the style, and because it 'humanized' them enough.
Humans, of course, wore them better. They didn't need to be careful, or risk ripping them to shreds, and there was something to be said about the professionalism of Humans wearing one.
It was why the Human intrigued him, because it was clear that professionalism was an ongoing effort.
The Human breathed in, it was silent, only noticeable by the notable swelling of his chest. Nervousness?
The Human began with thanking Rohirr for his time. "As you are a busy man, I will be brief-"
"Take as long as you need." Rohirr interrupted. "I am here to hire someone to help maintain my den, keep my pups in line, and deal with the stuff that's too annoying to deal with myself." Blunt, honest, not something Humans often appreciated, but considering that brief pause when he used passive language, it was worth trying.
"Of course, sir." Came the immediate response, most Humans were put-off by his brusque nature, even though it was that brevity that won him the election. This one responded well, even seemed relieved. "I am fully trained to manage your household. I am qualified to interview and hire any staff you may need within a set budget, at your discretion, and have the skills necessary to establish routines, schedules, staff hierarchy, and setting the standards that will ensure your comfortable and uninterrupted lifestyle."
He was back to the rote memorization, a script read and re-read countless times. As the Human listed off the qualifications he had- which included, but was not limited to establishing menus, coordinating cooking, cleaning, clothing care and maintenance- Rohirr realized that he'd completely forgotten to ask their name.
"Do you have any questions, sir?" The Human asked.
"Just one, I neglected to ask your name."
The way the Human's face paled indicated to Rohirr that he had made an enormous gaffe, he was about to apologize when the Human began apologizing. "I am terribly sorry, sir. In my haste to ensure your comfort, I forgot to introduce myself and ask your name."
There was panic, the scent of stress hormones, fear.
"The fault is mine." Rohirr replied. "I was more focused on figuring out how to speak with you that I had, likewise, completely forgotten to ask."
The relief on the Human's face was palpable, he simply nodded and said, "My name is Alex Knox, sir. May I ask your name?"
"Rohirr." The Canician answered in kind. He held his hand out and the Human shook.
Alex was just coming down from a near panic attack, the reassurance of his potential client had gone a long way to help him normalize. He didn't like handshakes, the way he could feel the texture of another person's fingerprints always left him feeling gross afterwards. While white gloves weren't strictly part of the uniform, he preferred wearing them because they offered a layer of separation.
That, and they were just the right level of snug.
"Are there any other questions, sir?" He asked.
Rohirr nodded. "Yes. Do you have any chronic illnesses or similar that I need to be aware of?"
It was the question Alex dreaded, but he didn't lie. "I have autism and ADHD, sir. However, I am on medication that allows me to manage the symptoms of the latter, and my training more than makes up for my disability."
Rohirr hadn't anticipated the waves of fear-scent that emanated from the- from Alex. That paternal instinct urged him to take hold of the Human, curl up with him, and growl at anyone who dared threaten him. Shaking off the thought, he simply replied, "Is that all?"
Alex nodded. "Yes, sir."
"As I understand it, your condition comes with some difficulty in understanding indirect communcation, such as passively remarking what you want, instead of direct communication?"
"Indeed, sir."
Rohirr nodded. "Then there should be no problem. I prefer direct communication, and can provide any necessary accommodations you need for your- what was that word, again?"
"Disability, sir."
Rohirr snarled at the word. "As though you were any less!" He barked. "When can I expect you to start?"
"When do you want me to start?" Rohirr smiled at this question.
"Today, if at all possible. By chance, are you willing to work in-home?"
Alex smiled at the question, it simplified things. "Absolutely, sir."
Rohirr stood, as did Alex, and they shook hands once more. Both felt confident this was the start of a wonderful arrangement. Though, he did have one more, more selfish request. "Do you mind wearing the uniform, even on rest days? I think it looks good on you."
Alex could hardly contain his glee at the request.
​
Out-and-out mansions weren't often built, since more often than not, they had existed primarily as a symbol of wealth and status. That didn't stop people from trying.
Rohirr wasn't one of those people- certainly he did have a large home that could be considered mansion-adjacent- but that was primarily because Canician culture dictated that if you are in a position to accept guests into your home, that you ensure they have a place to rest. His home was accessible to the public, and it was made very clear that this was a cultural thing, and that him keeping his constituents out was a massive faux pas in his society. He also made it very clear that in his society, it was also understood he would be expected to deal with disrespect with extreme violence.
He'd hold back, of course, and he'd pay for their medical bills up to a certain Credit amount, but beyond that, he gave as many shits as he took- which was to say, none.
Alex marveled at the size of the place- while it wasn't like the buildings he'd visited and trained in, it was certainly more than he anticipated. Even though he knew the place was open to the public, he was moderately surprised that nobody who didn't live there was inside.
"There are three floors." Rohirr explained. "The first floor is what I refer to as the visitation floor. It is understood this is a public space with rules. It is also understood that any staff I hire to maintain this space are not to be disrespected, and that they are free to defend themselves as necessary. I will not fire someone for telling a rude asshole to shut up."
The first floor consisted of three sitting rooms, a room with publicly available snacks and drinks- including a keurig- a small library, and three empty rooms which seemed to be multipurpose. All of the rooms had what could be described as a minimum of decoration, things that certainly made the rooms seem less empty, but nothing of particular value or note.
"The upstairs is soundproofed, and requires a personal ID to enter. I will register your ID to our security systems and how you how to operate it in the event you feel more staff is necessary. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir." Alex replied. "You mentioned other staff?"
"Indeed. A gardener, a janitor, and security. The former two will not need to be managed by you, they are locals in need of a job due to... unfortunate circumstances." Rohirr cleared his throat before taking his ID out and inserting it into a scanner. The wall slid open, revealing an elevator. They both got in. "The latter is my brother, Grauf. Our tribe is such that family protects one another, he is aware you are here, that I have hired you, and that you are thus allowed to be present."
Alex nodded. "Understood, sir." He replied. "Will I be expected to interact with the public in any capacity?"
Rohirr shook his head. "No. In fact, the less you interact with them while on-duty, the better. If I ever have an event or such that I ask if you are willing to assist with, you are within your rights to refuse, and are not contractually obligated to."
Alex appreciated that Rohirr explicitly pointed this out, it gave him a better sense that his employer cared that he was comfortable with his job.
They stepped out onto the second floor, which was visibly different from the first floor. As Rohirr walked Alex around, he observed the different rooms.
First and foremost, there were five bedrooms, one of which was larger, the others which were somewhat smaller and had VariaBed adjustable beds- the kind that could be changed between single beds to bunk beds.
"These are rooms meant for staff." Rohirr explained. "This larger room is yours, a small perk of your position. While I would prefer staff that is willing to work in-home, I also recognize this is not always feasible or desirable. These rooms will always be available for rest, I do not want any of my staff overworked."
The rest of the rooms consisted of a kitchen, a laundry room, an elevator connected to both side entrance, the second floor, and the third floor. "The staff elevator." Rohirr remarked, as well as two bathrooms, an entertainment room, a sitting room, and a few other rooms for tailoring, spare uniforms- autofit, Alex noticed with a little distaste- a pantry, and an empty room.
"I honestly have no idea what to do with this room, you are free to use it as you see fit." Rohirr finished.
The main difference between this floor and the prior one was that this had what Alex could only describe as Canician art hanging on the walls. "May I ask as to the decorations, sir?" He asked.
"My mate likes to carve." Rohirr replied. "She supplements our income through selling her works. There is spiritual meaning attached to them, wards against evil, masks meant to invoke strength and stamina, totems meant to grant clarity of mind." Rohirr pointed at a door beside the elevator. "Stairs, in case of emergency. And in the event that the stairs are not an option-" He slid open a panel on the wall. "This chute provides an even faster exit. It is large enough to accommodate me, and it is not a pleasant descent."
"Understood, sir." Alex replied. "And the third floor?"
Rohirr nodded. They went up the elevator to the third floor. The second floor was pleasant and had character, this was very clearly meant to evoke Canician culture. While the structure was still standard, the decorations were subtly different.
"Also of spiritual significance." Rohirr stated, as though reading Alex's mind. These totems have been in my family for generations, they are literally irreplaceable. It is understood they will not remain whole forever, it is understood that they will one day break, and to my people, this is a sign that our ancestors have finally departed, and no longer need to protect us."
"I will ensure they are treated with the respect they deserve, sir." Alex replied solemnly.
The rest of the floor consisted of no less than eight bedrooms. One which was very clearly the master bedroom, and another one that also served as the security room. A heavily-scarred Canician with several mechanical limbs regarded them briefly.
"Brother." He spoke, his voice clearly synthetic.
"Grauf." Rohirr replied. "This is Alex, he is my new hire. Alex, this is my brother."
Alex remembered hearing that Canicians appreciated compliments regarding their strength, but was uncertain on how to approach that. He simply gave Grauf a respectful bow. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir." He stated. He chose his next words carefully. "I look forward to hearing any tales you wish to share about your past victories."
Grauf raised the only organic eyebrow remaining, then let out a soft growl. "Your Human is trying too hard."
"Better to try too hard than to be insulting." Rohirr remarked. "Don't forget to peel yourself off the screens once in a while, you're crippled, not decrepit."
Grauf laughed, it was a wet, painful-sounding wheeze that made Alex wince. "We both know I'll die before I let myself be useless." He said. "Enter, Human, you'll need to be registered into the system."
Alex approached, his ID in hand, which Grauf snatched without warning. He slid the ID into a slot, tapped a few keys, then pulled it out. "Congratulations, Human. You have access to one of the most secure buildings on this planet, my brother is expecting little from you, I expect your best."
"I will endeavor to meet your expectations, sir." Alex replied, taking his ID back.
"None of this 'sir' kraaf! If you insist on calling me by a title, you will refer to me as 'Hurr', Grauf, or- if you want to submit to me- Chief."
"Understood, Hurr." Alex replied.
Grauf nodded approvingly. "Come back to me when you've finished orientation, I should have your permissions set, and you can help me set up security clearances and hierarchies."
Alex didn't miss the appreciative glance-over from Grauf.
Beyond the rooms was a play-room, within which were three Canician pups and an older female one- Rohirr was quick to identify her as Carraf, as well as his two sons and daughter, Bif, Rouf, and Harra.
"It is my hope that you work here long enough that you at least see them to their naming ceremony." Rohirr replied.
"I am not familiar with this 'naming ceremony', sir." Alex replied.
"When they are of age, they choose their own names. It is not our place to say who they are, that is what they shall discover."
They left the pups and Carraf alone for the time being- there would be plenty of time for proper introductions later, when she wasn't focused on wrangling them. As the tour reached its end, Rohirr and Alex stepped out onto a balcony.
"Is this adequate?" Rohirr asked.
"I do not know what you mean, sir." Alex replied.
"I mean what I ask. I am not like the rich men of your people from long ago, there is no such thing as 'pedigree' among my people." Rohirr met Alex's eyes. "Is it enough?"
Alex shook his head. "That implies there is some metric by which worth is judged, sir." He replied. "If I may be so bold, I wish to share with you why I do this job."
Rohirr nodded. Alex looked outward toward the city of Salem, this had been his home for many years, its familiarity was comforting. "It has always been my dream to help others, and this is the best way I may do so. Yes, I am trained by one of the oldest butlering schools on the planet, yes, I have a certificate that indicates such- one that I will proudly hang in the room you have set aside for me. It cost me more money than I truly had, and I can tell you now, it is most certainly more than adequate."
Rohirr nodded once more. "It occurs to me that I've never discussed strict hours."
"With respect, sir, you may consider me as always available." Alex replied. "For as long as your family will have me, at least, for as long as you are able to pay my wages, I will work for you. After all, I am doing what I have always wanted."
Rohirr smiled. "Do not be surprised if we end up adopting you, then you'll never get away."
They both laughed. Alex did not stand idly by for long, nor did Rohirr. At the latter's insistence, they both worked together to ensure everyone's long-term comfort.

Hi. I have severe adhd. I just got diagnosed a couple years ago and it changed my life, mostly for the better. My diagnosis helped me start the long process of forgiving myself for being different my whole life. I'm sure anyone who was diagnosed after 18 can relate. Ive been on two medications and neither of them have been great, but I have an appointment with another psychiatrist in july to try a different medication.
I never thought I had autism until I made a silly little post called "Reasons I sometimes think I'm autistic even though I'm 99% sure I'm not autistic." Well, all the comments were like "uhh these are all autistic traits," and "Um I have adhd and I do none of these things," and "join autism girl you'll find a lot of support there." So I started looking into it and I've done SO much research and now I'm just so lost because now i'm 99% sure I DO have autism.
I feel so lost because a part of me wants to get diagnosed and figure it out and restart the journey of self discovery blah blah blah, and part of me wants to just ignore it and focus on my adhd. What's the point? Genuinely what is the point of getting this diagnosis? All I see online are depressing facts and statistics and they don't make me feel better. I'm currently struggling with getting a job after suffering from major burnout from my last job because I couldn't handle a full-time job. I've learned that this is a common problem for autistic people and only 6% of autistic people are able to hold down a full time job. I always feel like people dont like me when they meet me, even though I try so hard to be super kind and super approachable. I read a study that says neurotypical people can tell within like 10 seconds if the person they are talking to is neurodivergent and this causes them to subconsciously act differently and be more reproachful. Getting diagnosed would confirm that these problems arent all in my head and they arent really overcome-able. Does that make sense? There are only two medications approved to treat autism but they're not even that effective apparently. And ASD also makes adhd meds not work as well. I already feel so hopeless because of my adhd and i feel like getting another diagnosis would just make it so much worse. I just don't know what to do right now. Any input, advice, or anecdotes would be greatly appreciated.

Is this a thing?
I'm nearly 26 and last week quit a job after my first day because of how stressed, anxious and physically demanding it was. I hadn't worked in five years prior to this job and am now back to being unemployed. I take anxiety medication, depression medication, and epilepsy medication. I also take sleeping medication every night as well. I don't think I'll ever be able to work again because of how mentally and physically draining it is. How do you guys do it? How do you manage when you take tons of medication, including some of them which make you tired and drowsy?
I need help

The men who are involved in gang stalking me continue to try to harass me about my personality.
They'll make a movie about a femcel or socially awkward woman. They'll also make her appear childlike. The woman is usually skinny, awkward, and weird.
I am skinny, socially awkward, and a bit weird. But, a femcel I am not. I don't beg men to bang me or love me. That's weird.
I will be a stay at home wife one day to a nice man with a stable life. I don't like the rhetoric they try to make about me.
They use witchcraft on me to make my hormones imbalanced. Their spells are disgusting, invasive, and weird.
The men are offered money to try and set me up on criminal charges or to have me sent to an a mental hospital.
They get things record deals, money, new jobs, publicity, etc. That's only if they're successful at setting me up.
I've been ignoring and avoiding these men because they're demonic. The witchcraft they'll use will return to them and they'll keep harassing me.
My next plan since I tried the grey wall method is to go completely silent. I'm not saying anything or going around people I don't know (even people I do know). It's getting really serious.
They're running out of ways to set me up. They don't know how to read me. My therapist is dodging me and refusing to give me medication.

It had always been my dream to be a law enforcement officer. Since I was a small boy, I have always loved the idea of having a gun and catching bad guys all day. Hell, what kid didn't? While everyone was having an existential crisis straight out of high school, wondering what to do with the rest of their lives, I already figured that out when I was 9 and still playing with action figures. After graduation, I applied for the new York city police academy and after 6 months of physical and academic training, I was ready to patrol the streets of New York City.
A few years into my law enforcement career, I can say without a doubt as most of us know by now: Reality is often disappointing. I had made my dream come true of becoming a police officer in a great city, but I guess I never considered I could be disappointed in that. I was severely under paid and overworked, I could barely afford a janitors closet to live in this fucking city, I couldn't keep a relationship to save my life and every time I put my uniform on it was like I was public enemy number one to every citizen. The only thing keeping me from quitting my job and starting over was my partner, DeLeon. The only other thing that was consistent in my life Aside from the constant shit flow from this job was DeLeon.
In just a few short years, he had become like my older brother, giving me life guidance, inviting me to spend time with his wife and son, and always having my back. Last night, I was quieter than usual while on patrol, and I guess he saw the writing on the wall. "Listen, kid, if you're unhappy with your place in life, you gotta do what makes you happy." I looked at him with a mix of shock and sadness I could feel burning on my face. "That's clearly not police work," he said like he could literally read my mind, ofcourse I was an open book to him.
Before I had a chance to explain myself, a voice came over the radio. "Unit 13, we have 10-62 in progress at westport," that was code for breaking and entering. My partner had already turned on our patrol lights and speed on when he said "Well you did want some excitement," while grinning like a little kid behind the wheel. "10-10 guardian, show us in route," I replied over the radio while I spot checked my equipment.
It took us about 15 minutes to get to the scene. The place was some abandoned warehouse scheduled to be demolished to make way for a new mall. The site was also secluded. We hadn't seen any cars, houses, or anyone for miles. "Who the hell would want to break in here?" I asked my partner, not really waiting on an answer. "Better question is who called this in?". DeLeon had a point.
There was no one around or waiting for us when we got there. There were a few large trucks and demolition equipment just outside the warehouse, so there must've been a security guard posted somewhere. "Keep your gun up and don't drop your guard," DeLeon ordered before we checked the area out. It was comically dark,the only light that illuminated our path were our flashlights and the distant full moon. It took forever, but we managed to find the main gate to the warehouse and a few feet next to it, a security guard post. I moved toward the guard post to see if anyone was inside.
"NYPD, we're responding to your call..." I could smell it before I saw it. There was a familiar smell of iron in the air, but it wasn't until i peeked inside that I could make the connection. It was blood. The security guard was indeed inside, still sitting in his cheap chair. His face had been clawed off,barely resembling a face at all now, his lower jaw was nowhere in sight and only one brown eye remained, it looked like it wanted to roll into the back of his skull.
His insides had been hollowed out, and his one remaining arm had half its hand bitten off. There was blood and chunks of human flesh all over the small cabin. It looked like he had been mauled by a fucking bear but I've never seen anyone be so utterly destroyed. I couldn't stand the sight for more than a couple of seconds before I had to involuntarily throw up. DeLeon was only a few steps behind me before he saw the same thing I did.
I could hear him gagging and moving away from the guard post. "We better call this in." I couldn't agree more. Whatever was happening here and whatever killed that security guard, I wanted nothing to do with it. We started walking back to our vehicle, and I noticed it somehow had gotten even darker since we got to the scene.
It looked like clouds had covered the moonlight from shining down. Before I could even process what was going on something had violently tackled me to the ground, at first I thought it was whatever mauled the security guard but I could see that it was a man wearing ripped clothes. There was a brief struggle on the ground were the mother fucker tried to take a bite out of me. just as fast as I was on the ground DeLeon took out his tazer gun zapped away. I got underneath him and kicked him as hard as I could in the mouth.
I took out my hand cuffs and put him under arrest. "Do you think I just knocked out a potential witness?" I asked jokingly trying to relieve some of the insane stress I was under. "Whoever this fucker is he's coming with us." We picked the guy up and walked over a few feet to where we had parked only to find another unwanted surprise.
Our tires had been slashed in the amount of time we had been gone. I would've blamed our suspect but on the vehicles bonet there were 4 gashes that covered the whole of it's length. It didn't matter how maniacal you were, you weren't going to be able to do that with your bare hands. We threw the unconscious suspect in the back of the vehicle and immediately tried to get backup on the radio. " Guardian, 10-30, we need immediate assistance on scene, at least one dead person and suspect in custody. Our vehicle has been sabotaged and we are stranded."
We anxiously awaited a reply but nothing came. Only static. "What the fuck do we do now?" I said nearly panicked. "Try to calm down, they know our location, if we don't report back they'll send in back up" DeLeon said scanning the surrounding area in the dead of night. "You shouldn't have kicked me in the face" I jumped in my seat as I turned around and realized the suspect had regained consciousness and was leaning his face against the division cage.
"It wasn't personal, but now it is cop!" The man was grinning so wide I could see he was actually drooling. "Did you kill that man out there you son of a bitch?" I said trying to regain my composure. "No. My friends did, but I'll make sure you get it worse."
I was taken aback by this and felt my hand tightening against my holstered weapon. "You got friends out here asshole?" DeLeon cut in. "Oh sure, and don't think I forgot about you zapping me either, you'll get yours too."
DeLeon exited the vehicle and I immediately followed him out. "What's our play here man?" He opened the back of our patrol vehicle and pulled out a pair of shotguns from a duffel bag. "We aren't gonna let those fuckers hunt us. Shoot whatever isn't friendly." As he tossed me one we both stopped in our track's.
Somewhere in the distance we could hear a horrendous sound that I could only associate with some kind of roar. "What the fuck is that?" I gripped tightly on the shotgun and I readied myself. "Something tells me it might be his friends." Suddenly we heard another roar, this one sounded closer but coming from a completely different direction. "Oh Jesus, what the hell is that?!" I took cover behind the vehicle.
"Whatever they are, their surrounding us." DeLeon was aiming in the direction where the last roar came from. My heart was racing. Even with the moonlight illuminating us again,we couldn't see 10 feet in front of us. We could hear whatever was out there now. They were close enough that we could make out the sounds of something large and fast quickly running from places we couldn't see in the darkness.
Suddenly, I heard a loud, deafening gunshot coming from DeLeon's direction. I didn't know if he had gotten anything with the first shot but he kept firing, before I could join in something had smashed into him so hard and fast he flew through the air and landed several feet away from the cover of our vehicle. As soon as I saw him land, I sprinted toward him, shooting a few times in the direction I saw that black blur speed towards to. "DeLeon, are you alright?!" I asked while trying to get him off the ground. "MY LEG!"
He didn't need to say much more. Even in darkness, I could see he had landed terribly, and his leg was bent in a way it wasn't meant to. I handed DeLeon my shotgun as his had been thrown somewhere in the darkness, I got him up, and we could only get a few steps in before we hear another roar of whatever was hunting us. Before any of us could react, we were violently thrown in the air again. I managed to land close to the passenger side of the vehicle, DeLeon hadn't been so lucky.
A few feet from me, what looked like a massive black warewolf dragging my partner across the ground... moments after it started ripping chunks out of him however way it could. It sliced into DeLeon's belly, and his intestines came spilling out. DeLeon was somehow still alive through all of that,trying to defend himself with one hand and trying to unholster his sidearm with the other. The warewolf bit unto his hand, taking all his digits off, then another warewolf joined in ravaging my partner. The only thing I could manage to do was jump inside the car and lock myself in as the two warewolfs finished ripping DeLeon apart.
"I told you we were going to get yours." I jumped as I had forgotten about the subject. Still, I'm custody. "Shut the fuck up!" I aimed my sidearm straight at the suspects head.
"I may not make it out of here tonight, but I'll make sure to empty this on your face first!" My heart dropped to my stomach as I was pointing my weapon. As soon as the man leaned out of the darkness, he was lit by the moonlight and started laughing maniacally. Maniacal laughter turned into violent convulsions. He had started to go through a transformation. He broke free of the handcuffs, and his body started to grow,somehow outgrowing his own skin to the point I could see it ripping throughout his exposed body. His face had begun to morph into something out of the sickest person's nightmares.
Something inside his face was trying to explode out, so he used his claws to rip his own human face off, revealing a demonic warewolf that was still somehow grinning at me. Another warewolf had jumped on the car and was staring right at from the other side of the windshield, the other one had slowly peeked up from my passenger side window, both still stained in my partner's blood and now we're out for mine. Realizing how complete and utterly fucked I was, I started hyperventilating and in what seemed like unison all three werewolves attacked their respective sides. The first one to get through was the one by my passenger side window, it easily smashed through and immediately tried to bite my face off,it missed by a few inches, the only reason it didn't succeed in it's second attempt is because I fired a round right inside its mouth. This staggered it enough for me to uncomfortably slide over to the driver's seat.
The warewolf on the car bonet was quickly smashing through the windshield and desperately trying to bite or slash at me. The one still in custody was bitting his way through the metal cage and seemed to be the most anxious of all to get to me. I shot off a few more rounds to the one that was now apparently stuck halfway through the window space due to how massive it was. It didn't seem to hurt it at all. Maybe piss it off more. It was only a matter of time before they got to me, and having a bullet as a final meal was starting to sound like a good idea.
I turned the barrel of my weapon to my lower jaw pointed up, I could still feel the heat emanating from it and the faint smell of gunpowder still in the air. I was about to pull the trigger when one of the werewolves, the one on top of the bonet and desperately reaching for me only seconds before,was thrown off violently off the car. Seconds after it was the one stuck in the window, it was pulled so hard back that chunks of flesh remained on the broken glass left. Lastly, the door to the back seats was ripped off, and something pulled the suspect that had turned into a hound from hell out. I was convinced I was going to be next, but nothing happened for the next few minutes.
I heard the roars of those creatures somewhere in the dark,different now,sounding less powerful and frightening and more hurt and frightened. I want to say I was brave during the whole encounter but the truth is I was a nervous wreck, I spent the next eternity with my gun pointed at the darkness in front of me waiting for something worse than those werewolves to take me, I wouldn't have been able to shoot anything even if I tried with how much my hands were shaking. Maybe an hour passed when I saw the red and blue lights approach, I didn't really feel safe until fellow officers I barely recognized pulled me out of the destroyed patrol vehicle. The next few hour's were a complete blur, I remember getting medical attention at the scene, being taken into questioning for hour's trying to explain the fucked up events that had taken place that night. We have body cameras that are mandatory for all NYPD officer's to use while on duty so that should have been more than enough evidence to explain everything and clear my name.
A few hours into waiting in a precinct interrogation room, a man holding a folder and who I've never met before comes in and sits down opposite me. "I'm terribly sorry to have made you wait so long, Mr. Morales, I had to grab a few things from the boys at csi" the man said with an accent I couldn't quite place. "Look if you're going to ask me what happened again, save it. You've got my body cam footage. There's nothing else for me to say."
I hung my head in defeat and expected him to berate me of the potential years of jail I could be facing. "You mean the body camera footage that has been destroyed?" I jumped my attention back at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He threw a folder at the middle of the table containing photographs of the crime scene. Our destroyed patrol vehicle, the dead security guard at his post, and a few random dismembered bodies, I thought I recognized one of the bodies using the same clothing as our suspect.
"I don't understand. What's going on here?" I was tired, confused, and angry, and I had half a mind to punch the fancy dressed bastard in the mouth at this point. " What's going on, Officer Morales? Is that you and your deceased partner encountered not one but three lycanthrope's last night. It's a very rare occurrence to survive an encounter with one, let alone three.
All evidence of last night's events has been confiscated and suppressed. The department will issue a statement of your partners death that will not involve supernatural creatures." I interrupted him as he was beginning another sentence."I've had a really stressful night, and I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever seen you in our department before, not that I'd care what your fucking name is or your hopes and dreams but you just barge in here and start telling me thing's that don't make a lick of fucking sense to me." I drop my head yet again in indifference.
"All I want to know right now is, am I crazy or not." The man looked sympathetic although in a very robotic way. "You're not crazy Mr. Morales. And as you most eloquently put it, you and I have never met. Consider me a liason between our two departments." "What department?" I asked, genuinely confused. "The one you've just been transferred to."

Hello, I am in orlando, Fland I am looking for scribe job or medical assistant any available I can work at? Any guidqnce will be very helpful.

First, Previous
Rex
Having survived in the violence-for-hire business for quite some time, I immediately noticed several things upon entering the conference room. The Lady Elissa sat at one end of a long and ornate conference table wearing what could barely be called a dress, largely because it was barely existent. A male aelflung of roughly her age and wearing a gaudy military uniform in House Ganthull colors was sitting a few chairs over from her. And John sat across from them, leaned back in his own chair and watching them bicker. I closed the door behind me as they fell silent at my entrance. John looked at me over his shoulder with a grin that nearly made me groan out loud. That grin has preceded some of the worst altercations I’ve ever been in outside of actual combat. The other parties had deserved it, but still. I didn’t want to have to pull John off some pompous aristocratic puppy who thought his chest full of unearned medals meant something. Again. Although it was always fun to watch those soft little whelps bleed for the first time.
Fortunately, Elissa broke the ice. “I’m so happy you could join us! I hope you have fully recovered from your wounds?”
“They have, thank you for asking.” It seemed the spoiled brat we’d saved years ago had grown up a little. Thank Uudin for that.
“As I told Lord Rosco, I was terribly sorry to hear of your loss on, well, I’m sorry but I cannot pronounce the name of that world. Hearing of Gratorf’s death saddened me greatly, I have been paying his family a stipend ever since.”
“Yeah, she told me that you two have stayed in touch over the years,” John added as he pulled out the chair next to him. “Her help behind the scenes has been most appreciated and well coordinated, hasn’t it?”
Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shiiiiiiiit…..
“It has been, without your influence we might not have been able to fully repair our ship after it was damaged or get the medical care we needed after the bar shootout,” I told Elissa as I sat down.
John kicked me under the table.
Nobody else seemed to notice. Elissa turned to the male aelflung and said “Chrastoff, this is Lord Rex, Lord Rosco’s second in command and a fine warrior. Lord Rex, this is Lord Chrastoff Ganthull, Name-Bearer of our House, a high officer of our security forces, lord of the nearby habitat Deepwood, skeptic of logic, and my twin brother. I am the eldest, by several seconds.”
I was turning to say something bland and polite to the little lordling, but the little lordling scrunched his pointy face up in disgust.
“These are no ‘lords’ Elissa, just base savages seeking to separate us from some money before they leave and find new marks to swindle.”
“They are my guests,” she replied icily. “They saved my life where our own men couldn’t. They will prove to be a valuable asset in our coming endeavors.”
Chrastoff laughed, “They saved themselves and kept you alive to get paid and keep their own skins intact. Mercenaries do nothing but run the moment they’re at a disadvantage.”
Elissa opened her mouth to reply, but John butted in first.
“He’s right, ma’am. I’m not a lord. I had to come to my current position solely through my own capabilities and effort. My lack of any noble title doesn’t bother me, I’ve actually earned the titles I have. But I have learned that some of the least capable people are born into power are kept there by the efforts of their subordinates who actually know how make things happen. Speaking of capable people and positions of power, I meant to tell you earlier what a fantastic job you’ve done of renovating this habitat. It’s absolutely incredible, and I hope you get the credit you’re due.”
FUCK. FUCKING HELL, JOHN!
Chrastoff’s genuine wood chair hit the floor as he launched to his feet and drew his rapier.
“I will spit you like a roast bird and dump your carcass at the dock!” He thundered, the tip of his rapier trembling crazily as he pointed it across the table at John and shook with rage. “I’ll kill you like scum! The scum that you are!”
“I doubt it,” John replied without even a trace of concern.
Chrastoff’s face turned an even darker shade of purple and it looked like he was about to launch himself across the table when a deeper voice came from a side entrance.
“Be seated my son, you are outmatched. You are a peerless fighting man but you are antagonizing a killer. I said be seated! Elissa, silence your chittering.”
An old, but not elderly, aelflung who could only be described as grizzled walked up to the table and sat at its head.
Elissa introduced us to her father, Great Lord Ganthull, as Chrastoff sheathed his rapier and righted his chair.
“Very bold of you to come into my home and engage in such provocation, Mr. Rosco. Were it not for our pending need and your impressive record, I would have you expelled from this station and your ship tossed out behind you.”
John tried to apologize but Lord Ganthull cut him off.
“A record that goes all the way back to the heyday of the Gunchow Combine as a distinguished Janissary soldier and commander, including the third and fifth battles of Stekkis IV and rumored participation in a revolt against the Stellar Angels abductor clan, who appear to be the only people in the known Fractureverse who know how to access your home world of Soil.”
Then he looked at me.
“And Mr. Rex, his stalwart companion and right hand, who was there to witness most of these events. Sold to the abductors by your kinsmen for your crime of being born with melanism to make their harvest quota, thrown into the cauldron of war between the big powers until you landed in Mr. Rosco’s elite unit. The two of you escaped from your bondage during the Fifth Battle of Stekkis IV, narrowly avoiding being caught in the supernova triggered by the Gunchow Combine as they retreated. Unable to save most of your comrades, you and your small band of escapees were forced into a life of piracy and crime, until you established yourselves enough to go legitimate as mercenaries, incorporating into Gallowglass Contracting and purchasing your first ship, the Fortunate Son, seven years ago.”
The room was silent. That past was buried, nobody knew that about us. Lifetimes of secrecy, gone. Chrastoff and Elissa sat, stunned, as they connected the dots and calculated the time. Those events were well known. Trillions had died. The effects had rippled out all the way to the fringes of civilized space. They were still rippling, in some places.
John broke the silence.
“How do you know all of this?”
“Oh, I know a great deal more,” the Great Lord told him. “We have a mutual acquaintance, who is extremely knowledgeable and recommends you very highly. Shall we discuss the terms of your employment? We need someone with your expertise for a little revolution we're starting.”

Hi,
This is about Armodafinil 150mg. I'm scared to take it. I took 1/4th of a 150mg (about 40mg) to test out how my body was to react. Thankfully nothing really happened, maybe I got a slight headache. What were your symptoms (if you have Narcolepsy type 2 without cataplexy)? How many hours would you sleep? How did it affect your day? Your studies? Your job? Does my story below resonate with you at all? How did you approach taking these medications that don't come without risks? Without meds, what "percentage" of awakeness and alertness do you feel? How does it manifest for you? I want to hear ALL about it!
My story:
27/F with comorbid anxiety, history of depression and CPTSD.
For the 1.5 years I have been following with a psychiatrist with my main symptoms being concentration issues, and just am yearning for more days with 100% alertness and mental clarity. I've always required at least 10 hours of sleep a day. He is incredible at what he does and I am so lucky to have him as my doctor. Over a span of 4 years, I ruled out I have tried antidepressants first. Those were Lexapro, Bupropion, Strattera, Viibryd, and small adjunct dose of Abilify. I am only on Viibryd now and it's good. I truly believe that those antidepressants helped in my success vocationally. Though I was successful at work, while others had hobbies mine was to sleep. I never really thought of my sleep being abnormal until I got married. My husband just is able to get up and go and not need one nap the whole day! He asks me to promise him that I'll go to the gym, and guys... I have yet to go. I keep waiting for energy and the focus to do that. It makes me look like I'm a lazy bum. But I'M NOT. The kitchen is a mess because I'm physically too tired to focus on putting things away.
My labwork is normal. But the symptoms persist.
He has woken me up almost every single day the last 4 years, and by that I mean by grabbing me by my legs and dragging me out of the bed while I fight it. It would be after 9-10 hours of sleep. I just feel like I need to sleep more and THEN I'll be awake. Then I would find that I don't have the time in the day that I need to manage a healthy life. Husband would say, "WELL IF YOU WOKE UP EARLIER YOU WOULD HAVE TIME". Ok so the sleeping is a problem. I have a record of sleeping 26 hours straight. Most days its at least 9-10 hours, with a probable nap and feeling about 70-80% awake, never truly FULLY awake.
A repeated thing I would do when my concentration is really poor to where I cannot function in my own kitchen, is to take a "30 minute nap". "That should help" I would think to myself. Well, it would turn into 3 hours. In the end am frustrated at myself for needing this much sleep.
Worse days are when it's 12+. I had plenty of 16-20 hour sleeps too but those are not as common. (Those days were only possible when I would travel for work and husband was not around) Moral of the story is: I sleep more than half of my life and just want to feel 100% AWAKE and ALERT and not at 70-80%. I don't believe I have full on narcolepsy and I have brought up "fatigue" to multiple providers since I was 14. My mother said I always slept very good.
In elementary school, my mom would wake me up. Once I got on the bus, I'd sleep while I can. In middle schoold, I was always be the last one entering the bus as the doors were closing each and every day at 08:00am and it was even worse at 6:57am in high school. Everyone was waiting on me all the time. Every minute of sleep was precious. I'd quickly brush teeth and put on clothes, quickly eat something in 10 minutes as I was fighting through the sleep inertia that would last all day. I ran to bus stop with the grogginess on autopilot and would run even with my eyes closed at times. I would definitely be exhausted in all my classes and for sure napped during them, but who hasn't? My friend on the other hand, would get up early, put thought into her outfit, do her hair and makeup. I just could never be one of those people. In college it became worse. I would definitely skip classes that I could to study them on my own time - but still would get that A in Chemistry. I would still be running to class at the last minute and I lived ON CAMPUS!!! It's not like I lived far away and had an excuse!!!
With the concentration that I have, it greatly affects my recall, processing speed, executive functioning, time management, memory and learning ability. So much so that I knew something was wrong with me when I studied for an extremely important exam for 3 WEEKS only to get a 52%. Guys I was DEVASTATED and cried for the first time. Normally I was an A-B student. This was when I was not on any kind of medication but I was truly always tired. I would read and reread, write and rewrite notes and they would just not stick in my brain. Have any of you experienced this?
Doc heard me out, and agreed that the recurring theme here is excessive daytime sleepiness with concentration issues with or without all the meds I've tried. He ordered Armadafinil for me to try . To take 1/2 a pill once a day to see if it works. If it doesn't, then to take the full tablet. Having never done stimulants, and reading all the possible side effects, I am terrified of it. Ofcourse Inattentive ADHD was a discussion of ours but it didn't feel right for both of us since I do have moments of full focus and clarity. Sadly it's not long-lasting and depends on the % of awakeness that I would rate my self at.
If you have come this far in my story, I applaud you for reading it all the way through. I know it was quite long and truly appreciate it.
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated in this journey and please don't judge me for not yet having done the sleep study. I will do it. I have a feeling that I am not fully narcoleptic like many of you. I will know for sure once the test is completed. This is not to say that Armodafinil may not be helpful for someone like me.
Thank you for sticking through this extremely long post and I'm excited to hear what you have to share!

I'm nearing 40 years of sh. I know many assume it is something only younger people do, but I'm sure I'm not the only one in my 50s who still sh. And I have never heard of someone who practices sh on their toes.
I know that sounds weird, but over the years I found that I could easily hide my feet in closed toe shoes. When I go swimming or go to the beach I wear water shoes. For me, in addition to the initial pain, it hurts for days on end as I have a job where I walk for 6 hours. So the pain I seek lasts longer.
I have had periods of no sh. My longest being three years. And I'm currently medicated and regularly see a psychiatrist. But I've never been able to kick the habit, and about 10 years ago I just decided it would be part of my life. I'm not encouraging it. But no one in my life has understood and I've felt the need to tell someone who would understand.
Maybe that's all I've needed. Maybe if I felt understood I would find the strength to stop.

I'm going to begin when I was around 12 years old.
The first experience I ever had was around age 12. I was lying in my bed sleeping because I had school the next day. My bedroom door was swung open with a good deal of force and the light came on. There was this woman, Id say around 50-60 years of age. She was in a solid white dress, and her skin, hair, eyes....everything were the same color of white. She had no pupils, just white eyes. I was frozen and couldn't move, I'd say now it was sleep paralysis. She came to my bedside and leaned down and whispered "death forge valley" in my ear. After that my body came awake and I ran out of my room terrified.
A few years later I began having night terrors. I call them night terrors because that's the closest thing to the experience. I began have dreams of snakes, demonic type things, grim reapers etc. Most of the time I would wake and still see the creatures for a few seconds in the physical world. but then they would fade and I would just assume I was dreaming. These experiences terrified me. They lasted around 15 years, and no medication ever really fixed it (diagnosed with multiple mental issues). One night i was in the middle of one of these experiences and saw a bright white light that "zapped" them for lack of a better way to put it, and I havent had any experiences with them since.
At some point I began seeing shadow like figures. They seemed to hang around where I was. But at the time, I trusted the doctors and thought it was just a chemical imbalance. Then I started seeing what most would call orbs. Usually through the corners of my eye, but they moved as if they were alive. White, gold and yellow most of the time in color. This continues even till this very day.
I'm not going to make this a huge wall of text, but here are a few other things. Had a feeling of dread of a certain location where a child drowned a week after I began having this feeling. I told someone they wouldn't be working a job much longer even though they had been there for 15 years. 4 months later they left the company and never returned. This happened because I felt like this was being spoken to me. I was sleeping one night and saw a photo of this person in vivid detail. They confirmed the existence of the photo and said it hadn't left their closet in 15 years. I actually got to see it and to be honest it made me really uncomfortable.
I'm 34 years old now. I've tried to pretend these things are happening, and they don't happen near as often as they used to. I still sometimes feel like I'm hearing thoughts that arent my own. They are like thoughts, but don't sound like my own inner dialogue if that makes sense. They appear to be random. Sometimes they are more "photo" or "video" like for lack of a better way to put it.
I have finally decided to seek answers. Is this something any of you are familiar with? or could it be some sort of a demonic attachment? or mental issue?
Any input at all would certainly help.
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I want to get into the medical or Healthcare field but I'm not entirely sure which program to apply for. I'd like something I could do travel contracts with. I already know that nursing has it, but what are some other jobs?

hi
i went 2 days ago to meet my therapist and I was surprised that he forgot what my husband s job is but I already told him a few weeks ago, he asked me if I needed a new medical prescription but I don t take any med…What do you think 🤔 ? Has it happen to you already ?

I’ve wanted to be a pilot for a long time now, and I got into a college that would get me a bachelors degree in aviation and all the certifications I need (except for multi engine). Problem is I would have to take out 120k in loans over the next 4 years (much of which being high interest private loans) and I have estimated my monthly payment to be around $1,500 a month. I already committed to this college, but it’s not too late for me to back out. I am worried that this will be too much money for me to afford and that it will put me in a hole that I won’t be able to get out of.
Also, before anybody suggests the military. I am on a medication for acid reflux that disqualifies me from the military. I still was able to get a first class medical though because it’s pretty minor.
So now I’m wondering if I should put the pilot training on hold and go to community college for free for a couple years, or if I should go and get a full time job first and take flight lessons on the side. My parents really want me to go to college (they never did), but I’m terrified of the debt it would put me in.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated, thank you for reading this.

I have written a list of things that I would like to have in a relationship with a man. Basically, it involves being attentive to my needs, prioritizing me in his life, and being proactive about communication. Here is a list of examples of what I would like a partner to do:

• Informing himself about my mental and physical medical conditions by reading about them on his own without me asking
  
• Taking a regular interest in my work. Asking me detailed questions about my research etc., reading my research as soon as i give it to him because he genuinely wants to know about it.
  
• Remembering things i have told him. Especially anything related to my health conditions.
  
• Being proactive with maintaining our life. Planning ahead for trips. Noticing what we need to buy or restock without me telling him.
  
• Making efforts to get a good job which pays well but without super long hours. Should be something that can be a career and geared toward long term goals.
  
• Noticing what I do for us like cleaning the apartment etc. and showing appreciation for it.
  
• Paying attention to things I say I like or am interested in, making a mental note for himself, and then getting them for me later on birthdays and special occasions
  
• Making an effort to communicate directly every day. Telling me what he wants or doesn't want to do. Inviting me to spend time with him or tell me he wants to be alone.
  
• Initiating sex regularly. Flirting with me and complimenting me. Telling me he wants me.
  
• Planning dates for us to do on the weekend. Making sure we are having enough fun time together and making good memories.
  
• Actively sharing his thoughts and feelings with me. Telling me about the people he works with and what he did at work in detail. Telling me what were the good and bad points of his day, what he ate for lunch, etc.
  
• Basically, making effort to make me feel I am important to him and trying to build a good relationship with me.
  

Is this too much to ask for or too idealistic? Are there actually men out there who are like this? I have been told before that I am too needy and expect too much, but I am wondering if that is true or if the bar for men is just too low in relationships.

When I started in tech a million years ago you could basically walk into any business with some networking, hardware and OS knowledge and almost instantly be given a frontline phone tech job on the spot, and they trained you to bring you up to speed on company specific things and to smoothen out your edges. It's how I started. I worked my way up to a sysadmin position and eventually a department director with several people under me.
I've been trying to use my experience since I not only held that position, but many others during the last 15 years in almost all areas of networking and internet. You name it, I've at least got some experience with it, except for things like coding and some of the heaver scripting. And regex still gives me nightmares. I know, I know.
So after I was let go, I thought I'd be back in a position with another company, if not in my specific field of expertise then at least maybe entry level in another area. At the time I had plenty of money to get by and pay the bills. Had just under 50% utilization and my car had been paid off. So I started sending off those resumes. Hundreds. Thousands. Filled out applications, took classes and tried to brush up in some areas, went to the department of workforce services and tried to get help there. I got a few emails, a few phone calls, and even less interviews. 2 interviews sounded like a sure thing but in the end, they all ended one of two ways:

• We've decided to go with someone else (someone else has more experience than you)
• The position has been filled, thank you for your interest (lol go away)

I can't even count how many times the position listing said "looking for $DEGREE or AT LEAST 1-3 years experience. Many of the places ignored the almost 20 years of experience I had in a few areas, and laughed at the pitiful 13-15 years in others. People flat out told me they wanted someone with specific certifications and degrees for what would be considered entry level positions. It's not a meme, it's happening in tech a lot right now.
As for the certifications, I will admit I got sloppy, lazy and comfortable. I never thought I'd need them because my position at my company was basically a long-term guaranteed thing. Getting told all kinds of things from the boss and co-workers, all positive things. All of it. Never had an inkling that I'd be in trouble, and if I was, I've got e x p e r i e n c e to fall back on and get another job somewhere else! If you're in tech: get all the certifications you can. Even for things you don't think you'll ever need. GET IT.
As far as labor goes, to make a long story already way too long, I have severely limited mobility and movement issues. An advanced severe case of Ankylosing Spondylitis is to thank for that, and it went improperly diagnosed for long enough that it did tons of damage well before I started on the medication. Fusion almost everywhere, hip, shoulders, back, non-stop pain for days and weeks at a time. I lied on an application once but was quickly found out after I couldn't do certain things fast enough. That one job, I was hired for in less than a week after applying. All the tech stuff, at least 2-3 weeks just to hear back, another 4-5 weeks to be told to away or given the runaround, and week 6 was usually when I got word that they were loljk.
So... I don't know. I don't want to be on disability. I don't find it shameful, I just want to work and that means not qualifying for disability. But a little over 2 years later, now homeless and living out of my car and doing almost anything I can just for a few bucks including begging friends. In most cases, resulting in having to lay in my car for a few days while the soreness has a party.
I... yeah.

i am a doula and got called into a birth early yesterday morning. before i left i told my husband i’ve been really overwhelmed with laundry/dishes/just general clutter of our house. i do the majority of the tidying up/chores during the day. he does clean but it’s usually once a week and then he will just let the house become a disaster until the next cleaning day. i hate living like this as i get very overstimulated with clutter. anyways, i ended up being at that birth for 18 hours with my client. today i woke up with our toddler and went downstairs to find an absolute disaster in the kitchen. it was the last straw for me. i texted him and it turned into a big argument over text and i laid out every single thing that’s been stirring in my head and bugging me for weeks (most things i have already brought up in a nicer way but nice doesn’t work apparently). i feel like i have to mother him and it’s sooooo exhausting. he lives like a college boy and blames things on his ADHD but refuses to get help meanwhile i am on medication for my mental health issues so that i can be the best version of myself for our family. i am 24 weeks pregnant with our second and the mental load of everything has just been weighing so heavily and i’m so tired. i also stay home with our toddler 3 days during the week and run my own birth work business and i am the primary income earner for our family. my husband is a preschool teacher and makes very little money but loves his job (also becoming a point of contention for us because he could be making way more money in a job that he might not enjoy but at least we would be more financially secure— we can pay our bills comfortably but don’t have much for savings and have debt we need to pay off).
obviously there are so many layers to this but ultimately he just needs to grow up and take more responsibility for life i feel like. he keeps saying things like “it’s hard for me” yeah you know what? life is fucking hard. but you just do it.
thanks for reading my rant. wish me luck in the eventual argument and/or pity party that happens when he gets home from work.

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ mention of various forms of abuse including SA, mention of suicide in some detail, mention of death
PREFACE
I understand this is the internet and I cannot expect people to have grace or mercy on me for any of this. All I can do is ask that if you’re going to give me your input, that you try and be as kind as possible. My heart is hurting and I really don’t feel I am in a place to hear that I need to entirely -drop- this therapist right now. My background of abuse and trauma will hopefully explain why that is, but I am not ready to let go. I am mostly posting this to vent, but also hoping that if anyone does have any advice that could help me even just in the short term with coping, that it will be gently shared.
BACKGROUND
I will try and keep this as short and sweet as possible but there’s a whole lot of history here. I am 27F, and I grew up in an unimaginably abusive home. Sex trafficking, severe physical, sexual, and emotional abuse from my father and my older brother (very patriarchal family), and a slew of very complicated and scary health issues including a liver disease and cancer. My family set me up to never be able to move out or live independently because they genuinely have viewed me to be their property. The severity of this can hopefully be summed up in just a few example:
Was never allowed to even get myself a glass of water in the kitchen or learn to cook Was not potty trained and had to rely on my mom to go to the bathroom into my teenage years Drinking only from sippy cups until teenage years Location monitored on my phone Every credit card transaction / finance watched closely Could not move away from college
My brother was allowed and able to do all these things, but I was not. My entire life, teachers and “adults” that were supposed to catch these things did not even bat an eye. They instead placed me in remedial classes and ESL assuming that I just had a learning disability or a language barrier (which I do not). When I told teachers in the past about my abuse, it was handled extremely poorly and no authorities ever got involved. My life felt worthless; meaningless. Like I could scream from the rooftops of my school that I was being abused and no one cared.
This past January, I did the unthinkable. I left my family and got my own apartment. Friends, therapists, coworkers, everyone who remotely knew me has been pushing me to do this for years and I genuinely thought I would die in my situation. I developed severe Stockholm syndrome so a huge part of my lack of leaving was due to my own internal thought patterns. I did it through the help of my current therapist, which is my… fourth? therapist that’s attempted to help. The last ones took advantage of how naive I was and hurt me (one of them has been arrested). This therapist, however, invested everything to get me out. He really wanted to see me free. And I am forever grateful for him.
MY CURRENT THERAPIST & BACKSTORY
I started seeing this therapist early in 2022 when I was still living with my family. I became severely bedridden and could not even go to the bathroom without my mom or dad escorting me. My anxiety and panic were at an all time high. I was on a leave of absence from work, and this therapist was the only reason I had for HAVING to get out of bed and forcing myself to drive, and most days I couldn’t even do that. He was patient, compassionate, and was willing to go to great lengths to help. Though mostly irrelevant, he’s 45M. He got into school for counseling later in life so when I started seeing him, he was just an intern under the director of the practice. At the time, the director of the practice was seeing an old time friend of mine (who happened to recently become my coworker). My friend had gotten concerned about why I wasn’t showing up to work and why I was struggling so much. I didn’t want to open up to her about it because I couldn’t open up to anyone at the time. However, my friend asked the director of the place if she knew anything about me. The director broke into my therapist’s file under the guise of “he is my intern, I can look at his stuff” and then relayed all of that information to my friend. It became an entire case against the state board and I fought tooth and nail to get that director in trouble. In the end, nothing was done and in retaliation, the director fired my therapist and I had to wait until my therapist found a new job in order to see him (he was pre-graduation by just a few weeks so he couldn’t ethically talk to me until he had another practice). During the worst moments of my life, I was without my therapist (no fault of his, and he checked on me frequently), but it was really only for a few weeks. To me that was a lot since I had been going 2-3 times a week, sometimes 4 because of my situation.
THE CRYSTAL AND THE SAGE
My therapist had gone out of town briefly and came back with a crystal he got. He told me when he purchased it he knew he wanted to give it to someone. And he said that it made him think of me and he wants me to have it. He said he wants it to be a reminder that he cares and others care and that it represents my truth to hold close. Months later, he went on another trip and said he got sage that someone gave him that was super special and he wanted me to have it. He was very invested in making sure I felt like he cares and has my back. I was never into spirituality in the same way as him so I respectfully accepted his kindness but kind of scoffed at him. It became more of a joke.
HOW MY BROTHER AND MY THERAPIST STARTED TEXTING
The director of the previous practice had tried to harass me with a fake number, as well as to my therapist. She wanted to try and get us to drop the case, I guess? When I continued to get texts from fake numbers, my therapist asked me to give him the number that was blowing up my phone. It turns out, timing was absolutely terrible. My brother (who moved out of state) was the one who started harassing me. My parents/brother allowed me to go to therapy to “work on my panic attacks” but they began hating the fact that my therapist was helping me become independent. My brother was outraged and texted me anonymously to kill myself. Because I still thought at the time that it was the director of the place, I went ahead and shared the number with my therapist. And that’s how it all began.
THE VIDEO THREATS FROM MY THERAPIST
Things got out of hand over the months. My therapist felt extremely protective of me and a “savior complex” kicked in. The reasoning for this is worth noting / important. My therapist lost his sister to suicide when they were young, and he also lost his father shortly after. His sister apparently had also been assaulted and my therapist had mentioned to me before how he views me as a friend, someone to protect, like a sister. He admitted his struggle with transference and said his main and only concern was to get me to move out of my family’s house. To take a leap of faith. He was desperate to do that. He offered to help me get an apartment near him so he could help me out, he offered to babysit my dog for me (my golden retriever is my emotional support animal that my parents have used as a bargaining chip), he offered to see me in therapy 5 times a week if I just moved. I just wasn’t ready. But my brother would not relent.
My therapist still does not know that I know this, but my brother showed me some of the videos my therapist sent him. Three separate threatening videos. In them, my therapist was shirtless with a ski mask on saying he was part of the FBI and that if my brother didn’t behave himself, that he would have his people come after him. My brother said that I was threatening him and that if I didn’t get this man to stop, it would be trouble. My therapist got extremely activated and decided to take it as a challenge.
My therapist also at some points asked my brother “how to assault me” because he wanted to know what my brother did/wanted him to admit it. But if an outsider saw the texts, it would seem like my therapist was asking to participate in assaulting me. It looked HORRIBLY incriminating.
THE MOVE OUT
I got the courage one night. Drove my dog over to my therapist’s house and moved in with a friend while I apartment hunted. My therapist was incredibly proud of me and poured so much love and care into my dog. I truly felt hopeful and optimistic and I eventually applied for my own apartment and got approved. Because of severe Stockholm syndrome and lack of knowing how to do ANYTHING, I would end up visiting home (somehow, they allowed that and I did not die!)
THE ASSAULT
Long story short (I am not super comfortable going into this part), people from the temple I was sex trafficked in (linked with my family), showed up and assaulted me at gun point in a van. I told my therapist. He was extremely upset on my behalf and called the police. He told me it was essential that I get restraining orders and that I stop going over to my parents house even if I have Stockholm syndrome. He said he could no longer be patient on that because I was actively being attacked. I told him I was still too nervous to go no contact and I could tell he was frustrated with me.
WHEN MY THERAPIST SECRETLY SAT OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT
My brother / someone from the temple decided to start things up once he figured out the person he was texting earlier was in fact my therapist. He threatened my therapist and challenged him to meet up. My brother was bluffing but my therapist took it seriously. My therapist arranged to meet him outside my apartment at 9pm that night. I had a weird gut feeling so I texted my therapist that night and asked him not to do anything stupid, but I had no idea what he had up his sleeve. Without telling me, my therapist sat outside my apartment waiting for my brother (who never showed) to meet him. Why my therapist chose to meet him RIGHT OUTSIDE my new residence was extremely irresponsible.
I went to take my dog out to the bathroom that night and my friend and I were hanging out. She noticed a dark car with someone sitting and staring with a mask on. We walked closer and it was my therapist. I yelled at him because I was so worried he would’ve gotten shot or attacked and that he would get hurt as a result of trying to fight. My therapist apologized and was so embarrassed. He awkwardly said “you weren’t supposed to know about this…” and drove off full force. We hopped in my friends car and followed him to wherever he tried to run off to. He then promised me he would leave. About 20 mins later, my friend and I decide to go out to get food and we see him sitting in another part of my apartment complex still ready to fight. I was so upset that he lied to me multiple times and that he was risking his life. What would’ve happened if he got attacked? But my therapist apologized again and said “I just need to look him in the eye” implying he was ready to kill.
THE DREAMS ABOUT MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER
As my therapist had told me, his sister had passed away from suicide when they were young. He admitted to have transference in a way where he viewed me in a sisterly way. For a while, I continually had dreams about his sister and it was very weird. I told him I don’t believe in a lot of things like crystals or burning sage but that these dreams felt incredibly vivid. In the dreams, her sister was assuring me that my therapist was sent in my life to be the brother I couldn’t have. That he was sent to me as a brother, and I to him as a sister.
THE HOSPITAL
Just within the span of days after he showed up to my apartment, I was hospitalized due to complications with my liver, and I reached out to my family for help. My therapist was upset with me for interacting with my family at all. My therapist even visited me in the hospital and said that I don’t need to call my family for help and that I have him and my other friends who will have my back. After I was discharged from the hospital, I asked my therapist if I could take my dog back for at least a weekend (he took my dog in while I went to the hospital in order to help me. He said he would hang onto him while I recovered and caught up on rest). So when he gave me my dog for the weekend, out of guilt, I took my dog with me to visit my family. I just felt the need to run back. My dad manipulated me a lot about missing my dog so I felt obligated.
MY THERAPIST’S FRUSTRATION
I admitted to my therapist that I had taken my dog to my parents for the weekend (after I already gave him my dog back). My therapist was so upset about it. He had put so much love and time into my dog and helping me, and then I took him back to the hands of my abusers. This is when him pulling back began. He felt like he was doing all of this extraneous stuff for me and I was just taking steps back.
THE SUICIDE METHOD
As he got over his frustration a little bit, I became very suicidal to the point where I purchased a rope and planned it out. I made him the beneficiary of my bank accounts as a thank you to him for everything. He told me he would do what he could to help me. He said I could bring my dog back to him if I just need a life break. He didn’t know I had the rope but he knew I was thinking suicide. When I went back to drop my dog off, I admitted I had a rope. I gave it to him. He realized I was genuinely going to kill myself and was so grateful I told him the truth. He told me he would be there for me to help me through it. Showed me grace and compassion and everything.
THE MAJOR PULLBACK
No warning. No indication. My therapist immediately pulled back. Hard. He told me to call him later that week (I usually have therapy 3x a week but he was out of town), and so I did as he said and called him to update him. He immediately flipped out. “Ugh, I cannot be in anything extra to your therapy space. I am going through things on my own and I need to pull back. I can’t take calls any hour of the day anymore. I can’t take your dog. You don’t even listen to me anyway. You do what you want and go to your parents. So, I don’t know what to say. I am committed to you as your therapist but that’s it. If you feel suicidal outside of that, go to a hospital and get sedated.” I was absolutely crushed and felt so awful and guilty like I did something wrong. I didn’t want to bother him. I didn’t want to lose him. He made me feel loved and cared for (platonically, as a brother) and I felt so safe with him. Until this moment. He was very hung up on the fact that I kept going home to my family despite his efforts.
After calming down he explained how he feels like he needs to step back because his emotions shouldn’t affect my therapy and that he’s doing it to help me. But it felt very selfish. He over exerted himself by showing up to my apartment and sending threatening videos when I never asked for it, all because HE wanted to. And now he pulls back because HE wants to. None of his decisions were based on what I would feel, but what would best serve him.
THE RELAPSE AND THE DREAMS
Because my therapist stepped back so hard, I relapsed and said “screw it” / went back to my parents. I still had my apartment but I backslid majorly.
During this time I was so distraught. This therapist made me feel supported. And no, I didn’t attach onto him in an unhealthy way where he became my only hope. But he did feel like the brother I wished I had, and he felt like such a deep and important part of my life and I was devastated.
I started having dreams again about his sister and I cried. I felt like I was given this gift and then it was taken away.
THE BACK AND FORTH
My therapist began telling me that he thinks I should have additional support in this season especially while he “takes a break from extraneous stuff” with me. He said when he was younger and going through things, he had two therapists.
A week later I told him I found a second therapist and he said: “ummm I don’t know. I feel protective over that. Maybe don’t get a second one. Find a support group but I don’t want you seeing another one.”
I stood my ground and said I might still find one and he said “well then make sure the other one is a woman and is closely in touch with me.”
It felt very wishy washy and he did a lot of similar things like this for a while.
But when I listened to him and decided against a second therapist, he pulled back again. He said he wouldn’t take any more texts or calls outside of session once again and made me feel like an obsessed freak when I wasn’t even really doing much at all. Or asking for anything.
VISITING MY THERAPIST’S LATE SISTER’S GRAVE
My therapist is a famous author and singesong writer. Online, it’s very easy to find his sister’s name and I did some digging and found out where her grave is located. I was feeling really awful, like I was grieving the loss myself which is so incredibly psychotic. I know. But it more so felt like I was grieving the loss of this brotherly love I once felt from my therapist. But it’s been a couple months at this point and he still refuses to take texts or calls, and is very argumentative and angry in sessions. And I just wanted to take some flowers to the grave in private, not tell him, and just accept that he can’t be what I needed him to be for me.
MY FAMILY FINDS OUT
When I went to the cemetery, the place was huge. So I had to go into the office and ask for the location of his sister’s grave. They gave me a piece of paper with her name and grave location on it and I eventually just threw it in my wallet. My dad stumbled upon my wallet while I was at home one of the days and noticed the last name and asked me if I was still seeing my therapist. They don’t like him for obvious reasons. But I admitted to my parents that I do still see my therapist and that he’s more like family than they’d ever be. They abused me. But I stood in my truth. At the end of the day I will not deny that my therapist DID help me immensely and if that means I have to be abused for the truth, I’ll do it.
MY THERAPIST INSISTS ON INFORMATION
He knew that I was hiding something. I told him my family was abusive again but I didn’t say why. He spent an entire session saying he needs to know what happened. I said no multiple times and that I didn’t want to talk about it. He used language like “you have to tell me before you leave my office” and “if you care so much about me you’ll tell me.” He even told me he was going to take my hand and promise me that he won’t react. He held it and looked me in the eye and promised he’d meet me with compassion. I refused. He then asked me if I’ve been lying to him. Deceptive. It broke me and I felt like it was just such an insult. But I stayed strong and he apologized for bothering me about it.
Last week comes around and it feels like such a hindrance. He’s continuing to be short with me and not answer my texts, not taking emergency calls, and just… is continuing to be cold. I even texted him that I was genuinely feeling suicidal and he told me he can’t help me outside of session. Period.
So then after my latest session, I told him I’d text him what happened because I was too uncomfortable to say it. I told him I visited his sister’s grave, about the dreams, everything. I said I felt really hurt at his pullback and how it felt selfish.
He responded by gaslighting me endlessly and it absolutely crushed me furthermore. He responded as follows:
“Ok crystals and dreams? I don’t believe in them. I don’t believe that was my sister. I don’t know how I feel about you visiting her grave. I am not your brother and I can’t be your brother. And yes it was a nice gesture I guess but clearly you are focusing on the wrong thing. Let’s not talk about the weeds and the details. Let’s focus on you.” And completely shut down any further conversation about it.
In the past I have insisted and begged him to process him showing up at my apartment with me because I am still shaken up. He just always says “I never should’ve gotten involved like that but we are NOT going to talk about this ever again” and has always refused to hear how I felt about it.
He went back on vacation this past weekend and refused to take my call when I needed help, refused to text me, or anything. I called off work two days in a row because I was so devastated at his anger toward me and the gaslighting. It felt so unfair. I wanted to talk to him over the weekend because I was genuinely so hurt and felt like I truly lost him. He didn’t care.
WHERE TO GO FROM HERE?
I had an appointment in person tonight. First in person one since I told him about everything. I am embarrassed and feel so guilty that I visited his sister’s grave behind his back. It makes me feel psychotic. But at least I was honest and didn’t wait until I got caught / did not gaslight him.
I have a major surgery tomorrow and he won’t help me with my dog. I’ve gone back to my parents for now until I am recovered.
I want to tell him how hurt I am but I have tried that. He never understands. I miss him. As a brother.
I ended up going to session and he asked me why I feel off in therapy. He literally said “other than me slightly having to pull back right now what have I really done?”
I don’t know if I ever can get him to see my side or my pain in this.
FINAL THOUGHTS / MISC
I was seeing him three times a week and one day he randomly cancelled my third session, and every week after “something came up” that day and he just kept canceling. Eventually he just exploded and said “I DO NOT work that third day anymore.” Without giving me any explanation or time to adjust or heads up. Like he clearly needed a break.
I was in the hospital just now for my surgery and I wanted so badly to reach out to him for support. I couldn’t. My heart hurts knowing that I once had this brotherly love in my life that I had lost.
Even now in session he uses the analogy of “if you were my sister” or “if you were my wife” after knowing I am clearly struggling with accepting he has pulled back. He used to say I am his friend over and over and now he just acts so cold. I know he’s trying to maintain boundaries. I know. But too late. He screwed with my emotions SO much.
I have horrible, horrible OCD and my brain keeps trying to do stupid things to fix this. I also keep asking myself over and over:
1. Will he ever take my dog back if I really needed him to? (obviously I can find other pet sitters but my brain is so hung up on —— if I asked him in an emergency situation, would he refuse?)
2. Will he ever stop ignoring my texts? I’ve reached out to him about being suicidal. About being in a state of panic. Previously, he would call me and stay on the phone with me while I got through an attack. I AM NOT EXPECTING THIS. I do not expect him to be available on demand. But his SUDDEN extreme pull back makes me think that I was the one that did something wrong.
3.Does this mean he emotionally does not care about me and my situation anymore? Did he just turn his emotions off? Did he ever even care? He would make me send him a text every day listing three things I am grateful for as a means to check in. He would also randomly send me quotes from books he was reading that he thought I could relate to. All facilitated by him. All of this has randomly stopped and it makes me feel like he hates me. Is it at all possible that this is a reflection of him not caring?
4.Is his pullback a temporary extreme and will he readjust and go back to being there for me? Or is this a permanent shift, likely? Can I expect things to even out or go back to him investing care and time? Again I KNOW the focus is on me having to do that for myself. I know I CAN move on from this if needed but I really, really began to love him (PLATONICALLY like family) and having him around. It breaks me so much. It was so important to me to have him.
I have been taking major time off of work and from seeing friend or leaving my house. I have completely self isolated. Refused medical treatment against doctor’s advice. Risked my job by calling off so much. Taking a leave of absence. Become bedridden. I know it sounds like I’ve become obsessed with fixing this situation and that seems psychotic and sad. But given my history with everything I have been through, this therapist had given me hope to feel like someone had my back. Losing him feels like a major major loss that’s soul crushing. Yes I have other people and no he cannot be my focus. But this is how I feel and I cannot help it. I do not want to be shamed for it. It just freaking hurts.
Again I know the majority of people will want to come at my therapist or me for doing wrong things. I know it doesn’t seem like this, but he really isn’t intentionally manipulative or gaslight-y, he’s just trying to regulate himself.
I have grace for him. And for myself. So please, please try and respond with compassion. I don’t want to lose him. But I feel like I kind of am.
What are your overall thoughts, in the most gentle way possible? Was I wrong for telling him the truth about the grave?