Sentimental mother daughter tattoos

I saw many stories like this on reddit and thought I'd share them with you, I'm curious about people's opinions.
I will use nicknames, since the incident happened in Hungary and Hungarian names can be a bit confusing for people.
I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my native language
The story starts with me (23M) and my ex, let's just call her Hen (19F)
We had a very good relationship, I loved everything about her, even though I'm the kind of person who rarely loves someone so much.
The other characters in the story will be my group of friends, who are Sophia, Ben, George and Natan. I created this circle of friends because I have known Sophia and Ben for a long time and became friends with George and Natan. I loved this team and had all my trust in them, George and Ben were the ones I trusted completely, even at the cost of my life. The story started with Hen starting to be rude to me out of nowhere, but imagine that overnight. I didn't fully understand why I tried to talk to her, which didn't work, I tried with her family too, since they adored me and so on. they thought I was the best person for their daughter. But they had no idea either. Then Hen told me, of course, on Facebook and not face to face, that she had already lost her love for me and wanted to break up. This came as a surprise to me, since I did everything to be the perfect boyfriend for her, of course I have bad habits too, but after asking many of my friends, they said that there would be no reason to break up because of this. I shed a tear and already initiated the team. No one understood why it happened and what was wrong with Hen.
Sophia immediately tried to help me along with Ben since they have been a couple for quite a few years. They invited me to play to distract me from the breakup, but in the meantime they tried to help, Sophia tried to talk to Hen about what was wrong with me and why we don't try to fix it. In the meantime, it turned out that George was also talking to Hen and when she started complaining to him that she couldn't sleep for days, George just told her that she would take the consequences after her decision. I was reassured by this because I thought that George was also on my side. The days passed, Sophia and I tried to talk about things, what could have caused it. Meanwhile, I noticed that I had received a message from Hen saying that George had offered to be her partner at the prom so she wouldn't have to perform alone. I, with my stupid head, did not yet realize the gravity of things here and said that of course there was no problem, because George also contacted me about this matter, that it was not a problem. As the days went by, I got the information from one of my friends that George and Hen got along very well, even compared to friends. I didn't want to believe this and told the friend that only George is so friendly and there's nothing to be afraid of, since he also maintains such a relationship with Sophia.
There was an incident that almost caused the team to fall apart, because Hen visited George's apartment more and more and neither I nor Sophia and Ben were invited anywhere. At that time, I was doing the work of 4 people at the same time and it consumed all my strength, so when I got home it was as if my brain had turned off. But I mustered all my strength to save the team, which I did. By now I was completely exhausted both physically and mentally. It didn't take 2-3 weeks, but I received a picture from my friend that Hen was sitting on George's lap at the rehearsal, saying that I have a very good best friend. The sight was simply shocking. I wrote to Sophia and asked if she knew about the incident because she talks to George more than I do. Sophia suddenly became very hostile to me and almost sent me to hell for being so prejudiced.
2-3 days passed and I tried in vain to talk to Sophia, but it was unsuccessful.
Once she just wrote to me that she talked to Hen and how I could be such trash and how could I do this to Hen. I didn't even know what she was talking about, and when she told me, I didn't remember anything like that. Of course, I didn't remember because they never happened, only Hen tried to plead innocent and make me guilty for the breakup. This hit me hard in the heart, I could never imagine that the one I love the most in the world could do this to me. 2-3 days passed and I got a call from Hen's mom saying that she didn't know where Hen was for days because she lied that she was going over to her girlfriend's place to sleep for a few days, but her mom called her girlfriend and she said that they didn't have Hen
Hen's mom thought that only I could answer that. Because she trusted me the most because, as she said, I am a decent and kind young man.
I immediately realized that Hen had gone to George's apartment to sleep, as they had been getting along very well lately. That's what I told his mother, revealing Hen's lie. But in the meantime I defended the team with her, that she is in good hands because Ben, Sophia, George and Natan are there.
Hen's mom immediately called Hen after our conversation and, as everyone would expect, of course she scolded her very rudely, how could she sleep with another guy, who is my best friend, 1 month after our breakup.
I would add that there was definitely no sex here because I know George and he's not the type to fuck girls.
Well, after Hen's mom finished the conversation, I received messages from Sophia and George one after the other, asking why I incited Hen's own mother against her.
How can I be such a disgusting peasant. I didn't understand why they were talking to me like that when I just wanted to help them. I just couldn't place what was happening. They think I must have told Hen's mother a lot more to get revenge, since that's what Hen must have told them. I got home, tried to call them, no answer, no message, nothing. All I got was that I'm a fucking dick. I was really crying here, I couldn't hold back my tears, I had one hope, Ben. I wrote him a message that we can talk on this phone because it's a big problem. He immediately said yes and heard that I was having a nervous breakdown. He told me not to worry, everything will get better, it's a sad story, but he's trying to help. Unfortunately, Ben tried in vain to help, neither Sophia nor George believed him. Natan even wanted to beat the crap out of me. It wasn't long before George and Hen were a couple. But Hen's mother reassured me that Hen's whole family hates them after what they did. George will never be accepted saying he's a fucking worm compared to me.
Ben and I have spoken a few words from time to time since the incident, he said that he misses me a lot but said that unfortunately the team will only believe Hen in the story until she betrays them as she did with me.

I rarely post, but recently I've been reading some posts where people offer uplifting responses to strangers. It has been a source of comfort for me lately. At the moment, I feel overwhelmed and defeated, with a deep sense of loneliness. I want to express my emotions intelligently, as I am experiencing profound emotional wounds and a lack of direction in my life. This description reflects my current state.
The aspects that define me at this moment are a combination of permanent, temporary, cyclical, and circumstantial factors. I find myself in the deepest depression I have ever experienced in my 41 years of life. Considering my current circumstances and the metrics used to measure success, I feel like a complete failure. If one were to analyze my job history and performance, there were moments of incredible opportunities followed by brief success, only to be followed by utter failure. Similarly, if we were to evaluate my personal life in terms of social interactions, dating/marriage, friendships, and health, I would be considered among the lowest performers. It seems like my entire life has been marked by failure.
Furthermore, it seems as though the universe has singled me out for some special kind of punishment. For years, I have felt a sense of surrealism, where every decision or action I take inevitably leads to unfavorable outcomes. Every significant matter in my life has ended in prolonged consequences, worsened circumstances, or some form of material loss. I have missed out on numerous opportunities, chances for marriage and having children have slipped away, I am financially struggling, and I have very few friends apart from one in my former hometown of Chicago and another in Alaska. My spirituality and faith have also been deeply affected by the setbacks and obstacles I have faced, and I am dealing with all of this without the support of my estranged family.
My three best friends, my sisters, and I have not spoken in six years. I can't recall the last time I spoke with my brother, as he doesn't respond to my emails or texts. My mother is suffering from rapid-onset dementia, while my father has recently retired from a lifelong career as a doctor. Throughout my life, my family has systematically scapegoated me, starting with being labeled the black sheep. However, everything changed when I disclosed at the age of 27 that my brother had sexually and physically abused me as a child. Since then, life has been a constant battle against me. The universe seemed to shift its axis, and my life has never been the same. It is particularly disconcerting that my brother, a urologist by profession, is the perpetrator of such heinous acts.
My sisters, as research suggests, took sides between the "black sheep/fuckup/substance user" and the successful urologist. They accused me of lying, changing my story, waiting too long, claiming it was nothing, and even being jealous of my brother's life, which includes a mansion, a Porsche, wealth, and respect. Since I have accomplished nothing, they believe I fabricated drunken tales of childhood and only decided to reveal this ultra-specific story at the age of 27. I never imagined that I would lose my family in this way. It feels like I have lost my identity, purpose, support system, best friends, and confidants – my sisters. They have subjected me to the silent treatment, which my brother also employs, treating me as if I don't exist. My sister's last text message summed it up when she said that they don't get together to talk about me anymore because I don't come up in their conversations. It was the same sister who initially encouraged me to reveal the truth about the abuse but then betrayed me and twisted the narrative.
In my family, my case of sexual abuse was not an isolated incident. My father, a physician and at the time a pediatrician in Illinois, had a second case of sexual abuse and incest in his side of the family. His younger brother, the second oldest among seven siblings, also abused his own daughter, my cousin. He is also Dr. A few years before I disclosed my own abuse as an adult, my cousin trusted my father enough to disclose her abuse to him. Despite my father not knowing about my case at the time, he took no professional action to report the abuse committed by another doctor, his brother, who abused his now niece, and did nothing.During that same disclosure, my cousin admitted that her two brothers, who are also my cousins, had abused her as well. This meant that five members of her household, three of whom were abusing one child, were involved in these traumatic events. My father, along with his brother and siblings, did nothing legally to report these incidents. My uncle, the abuser, is now the president of a hospital in East Texas. So technically, my case was the fourth, following my uncle, cousin, and another cousin. One of those cousins is now a pastor of a small church community, while the other works for a former presidential candidate's company. As for me, I have been trapped in a cycle of failure to launch as an adult, mental health issues, and intermittent substance abuse problems for the past 20 years. And that's not even the end of it – the fifth case involves my cousin, who was arrested in a state capital where he worked as a therapist or counselor. He was arrested for filming his young neighbor through her window. I am aware of his arrest but do not have any information regarding the progress of his case or its resolution.
To put it all together, it is an intricate mess of narcissism, ego, power, control, and childhood trauma. I strongly believe I have developed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of these experiences. In fact, I am certain that I have.
Fast-forward to the present, and I am writing this from a motel room, where there are too many details to recount from the past six months since my return from Montana. In a way, I followed the path of my other abused cousin – I left. However, I ultimately failed and had to return to a city near my parents, a city I despise. To add to my troubles, I was falsely accused of felony domestic violence soon after my return, further fueling my sense of failure and shame. My parents, upon hearing about the incident, made it clear that they wanted little to do with me. Speaking of Montana, my experiences and the year I spent there were truly nightmarish, to say the least. But that's a story for another time.
During the car ride to a hospital in a small town in the same county, my father and I had an opportunity for a discussion about the abuse. I wanted to understand why he did nothing in all five cases, why the eldest child seems to be targeted (true for my brother and cousin), why successful doctors are involved – including a pastor, a consultant, and now a urologist after the fact. Did he not notice the intergenerational pattern and his own parental negligence as a physician and a parent of adult children? I questioned why he took no action, why his behavior changed so drastically in the past three years, why he lied about his knowledge of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) when he had used them for possible infidelity and had lied about private settlements. He even harassed me using the police, assassinated my character in our small town, and now charged me with striking him, resulting in false statements and allegations. As a consequence, my reputation has been tarnished while my father's remains pristine. We currently reside in a town where he practiced medicine, and the consequences for me are severe. Deep in my heart, I know that his post-arrest behavior towards me has been consistently inconsistent. He evades questioning, avoids contact and visits, and shows no signs of wanting a relationship. Instead, he guilt-trips me, shifts blame, engages in word salad and gaslighting, and pathologically lies.
As I sit here now, I wonder: What can one do in such a dire situation? There seem to be no options, no answers, no safety nets of money or emotional support, no motivation, and no joy – only the looming threat of a potentially harsh sentence. Even worse, my father has attempted to record my phone calls and offered me money not to hire a proper defense attorney or pursue litigation, just a week before I was supposed to accept a four-year adjudication plea as an innocent party. Then, when I decided to plead my innocence at the last minute during the trial, he abandoned me once again, signaling to me that money is somehow tainted. Regardless, it's gone now.
I apologize for unloading all of this on Reddit, and I understand that it may be quite depressing for others to read. However, I feel that I have reached the end of my fight, not against just one issue, but against a conglomerate of issues that have stolen my life and time, offering me nothing in return. I desperately need legal advice, emotional support, prayers, or any form of assistance. I find myself lost in a maze of confusion, where every turn I make is a miscalculation, distorted by backward perspectives and reflections off other elements. Over the past six weeks since leaving my job due to a problematic relationship with the owner, I have been living a transient and isolated existence in the dark corners of this wretched city. It feels as though I have been exiled from my own life. I don't know what to do or who to turn to. I want to assure you that I'm not dramatizing this situation; I'm simply sharing my experience because I have no one else to talk to. I have been completely alone and isolated since losing my job.

I (41M) have an ex which I have 3 children with, one of which recently had her high school graduation. My daughter Angie(17F, late birthday) invited me to her graduation, and I’d said I’d be there. I am currently in a committed relationship to my girlfriend of a few months (41F), who has a daughter Lauren (24F). Lauren recently graduated with a bachelors in biology.
A week before the graduations, I was then given an invite by my girlfriend and Lauren to her graduation. Her father passed away and she told me it would mean the world to have someone there to support her in his place. I agreed before learning what the date and time of the event was.
Day of the graduation, I’m getting ready to head over to Angie and her mothers house to head off to the ceremony. My girlfriend asks me why I’m getting ready to early, so I explain its in two hours, got an hours drive and want to make sure I’m there on time so I don’t hold them up, as well as travel time to the venue - then she cuts me off to say that she had no idea that was today, and told me today was also Laurens graduation. Laurens ceremony was 3 hours after the start time of Angie's graduation. I did some math and figured I had time to at least be partially present for Angie’s graduation, give her the gift I had for her, and take some pictures beforehand, but my girlfriend was not too happy with the idea. Stating it would be devastating if I didn’t keep my promise to Lauren, and that I wouldn’t be “stepfather material” if I blew her off like that. I tried to explain I'd still be there for the entirety of Laurens ceremony with this plan but she just wouldn't listen, but wouldn't give me any reason why either besides just me "owing it to her" and her daughter.
I let that get the best of me and gave Angie a call, told her I was having issues with my car and wouldn’t be able to attend, however I would see her as soon as I could to get the gifts and take her out to dinner to celebrate with me. I went to Lauren's ceremony later in the day. Of course I was in some of the pictures, which were posted on Facebook and I was tagged in them. My wife, and probably Angie too, saw the photos on my page.
My ex wife is livid, saying I betrayed my daughter and blew her off for some other kid I barely know or have any responsibility for. I tried to play it off like we took Laurens car there but she didn’t listen. She said I could have done better, could’ve done more, with stuff like uber and lyft I could’ve gotten a ride if I cared enough to see her and pay the fees but I just decided not to and I don’t deserve to be in her life anymore. Angie isn’t responding to my calls to set up our agreed upon dinner date to celebrate her achievement. AITA, or are they just blowing things out of proportion ? I can understand how not even bothering to attend partially would make me TA, but I figured planning a day just for her separately would make up for that, am I wrong?

I rarely post, but recently I've been reading some posts where people offer uplifting responses to strangers. It has been a source of comfort for me lately. At the moment, I feel overwhelmed and defeated, with a deep sense of loneliness. I want to express my emotions intelligently, as I am experiencing profound emotional wounds and a lack of direction in my life. This description reflects my current state.
The aspects that define me at this moment are a combination of permanent, temporary, cyclical, and circumstantial factors. I find myself in the deepest depression I have ever experienced in my 41 years of life. Considering my current circumstances and the metrics used to measure success, I feel like a complete failure. If one were to analyze my job history and performance, there were moments of incredible opportunities followed by brief success, only to be followed by utter failure. Similarly, if we were to evaluate my personal life in terms of social interactions, dating/marriage, friendships, and health, I would be considered among the lowest performers. It seems like my entire life has been marked by failure.
Furthermore, it seems as though the universe has singled me out for some special kind of punishment. For years, I have felt a sense of surrealism, where every decision or action I take inevitably leads to unfavorable outcomes. Every significant matter in my life has ended in prolonged consequences, worsened circumstances, or some form of material loss. I have missed out on numerous opportunities, chances for marriage and having children have slipped away, I am financially struggling, and I have very few friends apart from one in my former hometown of Chicago and another in Alaska. My spirituality and faith have also been deeply affected by the setbacks and obstacles I have faced, and I am dealing with all of this without the support of my estranged family.
My three best friends, my sisters, and I have not spoken in six years. I can't recall the last time I spoke with my brother, as he doesn't respond to my emails or texts. My mother is suffering from rapid-onset dementia, while my father has recently retired from a lifelong career as a doctor. Throughout my life, my family has systematically scapegoated me, starting with being labeled the black sheep. However, everything changed when I disclosed at the age of 27 that my brother had sexually and physically abused me as a child. Since then, life has been a constant battle against me. The universe seemed to shift its axis, and my life has never been the same. It is particularly disconcerting that my brother, a urologist by profession, is the perpetrator of such heinous acts.
My sisters, as research suggests, took sides between the "black sheep/fuckup/substance user" and the successful urologist. They accused me of lying, changing my story, waiting too long, claiming it was nothing, and even being jealous of my brother's life, which includes a mansion, a Porsche, wealth, and respect. Since I have accomplished nothing, they believe I fabricated drunken tales of childhood and only decided to reveal this ultra-specific story at the age of 27. I never imagined that I would lose my family in this way. It feels like I have lost my identity, purpose, support system, best friends, and confidants – my sisters. They have subjected me to the silent treatment, which my brother also employs, treating me as if I don't exist. My sister's last text message summed it up when she said that they don't get together to talk about me anymore because I don't come up in their conversations. It was the same sister who initially encouraged me to reveal the truth about the abuse but then betrayed me and twisted the narrative.
In my family, my case of sexual abuse was not an isolated incident. My father, a physician and at the time a pediatrician in Illinois, had a second case of sexual abuse and incest in his side of the family. His younger brother, the second oldest among seven siblings, also abused his own daughter, my cousin. He is also Dr. A few years before I disclosed my own abuse as an adult, my cousin trusted my father enough to disclose her abuse to him. Despite my father not knowing about my case at the time, he took no professional action to report the abuse committed by another doctor, his brother, who abused his now niece, and did nothing.During that same disclosure, my cousin admitted that her two brothers, who are also my cousins, had abused her as well. This meant that five members of her household, three of whom were abusing one child, were involved in these traumatic events. My father, along with his brother and siblings, did nothing legally to report these incidents. My uncle, the abuser, is now the president of a hospital in East Texas. So technically, my case was the fourth, following my uncle, cousin, and another cousin. One of those cousins is now a pastor of a small church community, while the other works for a former presidential candidate's company. As for me, I have been trapped in a cycle of failure to launch as an adult, mental health issues, and intermittent substance abuse problems for the past 20 years. And that's not even the end of it – the fifth case involves my cousin, who was arrested in a state capital where he worked as a therapist or counselor. He was arrested for filming his young neighbor through her window. I am aware of his arrest but do not have any information regarding the progress of his case or its resolution.
To put it all together, it is an intricate mess of narcissism, ego, power, control, and childhood trauma. I strongly believe I have developed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of these experiences. In fact, I am certain that I have.
Fast-forward to the present, and I am writing this from a motel room, where there are too many details to recount from the past six months since my return from Montana. In a way, I followed the path of my other abused cousin – I left. However, I ultimately failed and had to return to a city near my parents, a city I despise. To add to my troubles, I was falsely accused of felony domestic violence soon after my return, further fueling my sense of failure and shame. My parents, upon hearing about the incident, made it clear that they wanted little to do with me. Speaking of Montana, my experiences and the year I spent there were truly nightmarish, to say the least. But that's a story for another time.
During the car ride to a hospital in a small town in the same county, my father and I had an opportunity for a discussion about the abuse. I wanted to understand why he did nothing in all five cases, why the eldest child seems to be targeted (true for my brother and cousin), why successful doctors are involved – including a pastor, a consultant, and now a urologist after the fact. Did he not notice the intergenerational pattern and his own parental negligence as a physician and a parent of adult children? I questioned why he took no action, why his behavior changed so drastically in the past three years, why he lied about his knowledge of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) when he had used them for possible infidelity and had lied about private settlements. He even harassed me using the police, assassinated my character in our small town, and now charged me with striking him, resulting in false statements and allegations. As a consequence, my reputation has been tarnished while my father's remains pristine. We currently reside in a town where he practiced medicine, and the consequences for me are severe. Deep in my heart, I know that his post-arrest behavior towards me has been consistently inconsistent. He evades questioning, avoids contact and visits, and shows no signs of wanting a relationship. Instead, he guilt-trips me, shifts blame, engages in word salad and gaslighting, and pathologically lies.
As I sit here now, I wonder: What can one do in such a dire situation? There seem to be no options, no answers, no safety nets of money or emotional support, no motivation, and no joy – only the looming threat of a potentially harsh sentence. Even worse, my father has attempted to record my phone calls and offered me money not to hire a proper defense attorney or pursue litigation, just a week before I was supposed to accept a four-year adjudication plea as an innocent party. Then, when I decided to plead my innocence at the last minute during the trial, he abandoned me once again, signaling to me that money is somehow tainted. Regardless, it's gone now.
I apologize for unloading all of this on Reddit, and I understand that it may be quite depressing for others to read. However, I feel that I have reached the end of my fight, not against just one issue, but against a conglomerate of issues that have stolen my life and time, offering me nothing in return. I desperately need legal advice, emotional support, prayers, or any form of assistance. I find myself lost in a maze of confusion, where every turn I make is a miscalculation, distorted by backward perspectives and reflections off other elements. Over the past six weeks since leaving my job due to a problematic relationship with the owner, I have been living a transient and isolated existence in the dark corners of this wretched city. It feels as though I have been exiled from my own life. I don't know what to do or who to turn to. I want to assure you that I'm not dramatizing this situation; I'm simply sharing my experience because I have no one else to talk to. I have been completely alone and isolated since losing my job.

I rarely post, but recently I've been reading some posts where people offer uplifting responses to strangers. It has been a source of comfort for me lately. At the moment, I feel overwhelmed and defeated, with a deep sense of loneliness. I want to express my emotions intelligently, as I am experiencing profound emotional wounds and a lack of direction in my life. This description reflects my current state.
The aspects that define me at this moment are a combination of permanent, temporary, cyclical, and circumstantial factors. I find myself in the deepest depression I have ever experienced in my 41 years of life. Considering my current circumstances and the metrics used to measure success, I feel like a complete failure. If one were to analyze my job history and performance, there were moments of incredible opportunities followed by brief success, only to be followed by utter failure. Similarly, if we were to evaluate my personal life in terms of social interactions, dating/marriage, friendships, and health, I would be considered among the lowest performers. It seems like my entire life has been marked by failure.
Furthermore, it seems as though the universe has singled me out for some special kind of punishment. For years, I have felt a sense of surrealism, where every decision or action I take inevitably leads to unfavorable outcomes. Every significant matter in my life has ended in prolonged consequences, worsened circumstances, or some form of material loss. I have missed out on numerous opportunities, chances for marriage and having children have slipped away, I am financially struggling, and I have very few friends apart from one in my former hometown of Chicago and another in Alaska. My spirituality and faith have also been deeply affected by the setbacks and obstacles I have faced, and I am dealing with all of this without the support of my estranged family.
My three best friends, my sisters, and I have not spoken in six years. I can't recall the last time I spoke with my brother, as he doesn't respond to my emails or texts. My mother is suffering from rapid-onset dementia, while my father has recently retired from a lifelong career as a doctor. Throughout my life, my family has systematically scapegoated me, starting with being labeled the black sheep. However, everything changed when I disclosed at the age of 27 that my brother had sexually and physically abused me as a child. Since then, life has been a constant battle against me. The universe seemed to shift its axis, and my life has never been the same. It is particularly disconcerting that my brother, a urologist by profession, is the perpetrator of such heinous acts.
My sisters, as research suggests, took sides between the "black sheep/fuckup/substance user" and the successful urologist. They accused me of lying, changing my story, waiting too long, claiming it was nothing, and even being jealous of my brother's life, which includes a mansion, a Porsche, wealth, and respect. Since I have accomplished nothing, they believe I fabricated drunken tales of childhood and only decided to reveal this ultra-specific story at the age of 27. I never imagined that I would lose my family in this way. It feels like I have lost my identity, purpose, support system, best friends, and confidants – my sisters. They have subjected me to the silent treatment, which my brother also employs, treating me as if I don't exist. My sister's last text message summed it up when she said that they don't get together to talk about me anymore because I don't come up in their conversations. It was the same sister who initially encouraged me to reveal the truth about the abuse but then betrayed me and twisted the narrative.
In my family, my case of sexual abuse was not an isolated incident. My father, a physician and at the time a pediatrician in Illinois, had a second case of sexual abuse and incest in his side of the family. His younger brother, the second oldest among seven siblings, also abused his own daughter, my cousin. He is also Dr. A few years before I disclosed my own abuse as an adult, my cousin trusted my father enough to disclose her abuse to him. Despite my father not knowing about my case at the time, he took no professional action to report the abuse committed by another doctor, his brother, who abused his now niece, and did nothing.During that same disclosure, my cousin admitted that her two brothers, who are also my cousins, had abused her as well. This meant that five members of her household, three of whom were abusing one child, were involved in these traumatic events. My father, along with his brother and siblings, did nothing legally to report these incidents. My uncle, the abuser, is now the president of a hospital in East Texas. So technically, my case was the fourth, following my uncle, cousin, and another cousin. One of those cousins is now a pastor of a small church community, while the other works for a former presidential candidate's company. As for me, I have been trapped in a cycle of failure to launch as an adult, mental health issues, and intermittent substance abuse problems for the past 20 years. And that's not even the end of it – the fifth case involves my cousin, who was arrested in a state capital where he worked as a therapist or counselor. He was arrested for filming his young neighbor through her window. I am aware of his arrest but do not have any information regarding the progress of his case or its resolution.
To put it all together, it is an intricate mess of narcissism, ego, power, control, and childhood trauma. I strongly believe I have developed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of these experiences. In fact, I am certain that I have.
Fast-forward to the present, and I am writing this from a motel room, where there are too many details to recount from the past six months since my return from Montana. In a way, I followed the path of my other abused cousin – I left. However, I ultimately failed and had to return to a city near my parents, a city I despise. To add to my troubles, I was falsely accused of felony domestic violence soon after my return, further fueling my sense of failure and shame. My parents, upon hearing about the incident, made it clear that they wanted little to do with me. Speaking of Montana, my experiences and the year I spent there were truly nightmarish, to say the least. But that's a story for another time.
During the car ride to a hospital in a small town in the same county, my father and I had an opportunity for a discussion about the abuse. I wanted to understand why he did nothing in all five cases, why the eldest child seems to be targeted (true for my brother and cousin), why successful doctors are involved – including a pastor, a consultant, and now a urologist after the fact. Did he not notice the intergenerational pattern and his own parental negligence as a physician and a parent of adult children? I questioned why he took no action, why his behavior changed so drastically in the past three years, why he lied about his knowledge of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) when he had used them for possible infidelity and had lied about private settlements. He even harassed me using the police, assassinated my character in our small town, and now charged me with striking him, resulting in false statements and allegations. As a consequence, my reputation has been tarnished while my father's remains pristine. We currently reside in a town where he practiced medicine, and the consequences for me are severe. Deep in my heart, I know that his post-arrest behavior towards me has been consistently inconsistent. He evades questioning, avoids contact and visits, and shows no signs of wanting a relationship. Instead, he guilt-trips me, shifts blame, engages in word salad and gaslighting, and pathologically lies.
As I sit here now, I wonder: What can one do in such a dire situation? There seem to be no options, no answers, no safety nets of money or emotional support, no motivation, and no joy – only the looming threat of a potentially harsh sentence. Even worse, my father has attempted to record my phone calls and offered me money not to hire a proper defense attorney or pursue litigation, just a week before I was supposed to accept a four-year adjudication plea as an innocent party. Then, when I decided to plead my innocence at the last minute during the trial, he abandoned me once again, signaling to me that money is somehow tainted. Regardless, it's gone now.
I apologize for unloading all of this on Reddit, and I understand that it may be quite depressing for others to read. However, I feel that I have reached the end of my fight, not against just one issue, but against a conglomerate of issues that have stolen my life and time, offering me nothing in return. I desperately need legal advice, emotional support, prayers, or any form of assistance. I find myself lost in a maze of confusion, where every turn I make is a miscalculation, distorted by backward perspectives and reflections off other elements. Over the past six weeks since leaving my job due to a problematic relationship with the owner, I have been living a transient and isolated existence in the dark corners of this wretched city. It feels as though I have been exiled from my own life. I don't know what to do or who to turn to. I want to assure you that I'm not dramatizing this situation; I'm simply sharing my experience because I have no one else to talk to. I have been completely alone and isolated since losing my job.

I rarely post, but recently I've been reading some posts where people offer uplifting responses to strangers. It has been a source of comfort for me lately. At the moment, I feel overwhelmed and defeated, with a deep sense of loneliness. I want to express my emotions intelligently, as I am experiencing profound emotional wounds and a lack of direction in my life. This description reflects my current state.
The aspects that define me at this moment are a combination of permanent, temporary, cyclical, and circumstantial factors. I find myself in the deepest depression I have ever experienced in my 41 years of life. Considering my current circumstances and the metrics used to measure success, I feel like a complete failure. If one were to analyze my job history and performance, there were moments of incredible opportunities followed by brief success, only to be followed by utter failure. Similarly, if we were to evaluate my personal life in terms of social interactions, dating/marriage, friendships, and health, I would be considered among the lowest performers. It seems like my entire life has been marked by failure.
Furthermore, it seems as though the universe has singled me out for some special kind of punishment. For years, I have felt a sense of surrealism, where every decision or action I take inevitably leads to unfavorable outcomes. Every significant matter in my life has ended in prolonged consequences, worsened circumstances, or some form of material loss. I have missed out on numerous opportunities, chances for marriage and having children have slipped away, I am financially struggling, and I have very few friends apart from one in my former hometown of Chicago and another in Alaska. My spirituality and faith have also been deeply affected by the setbacks and obstacles I have faced, and I am dealing with all of this without the support of my estranged family.
My three best friends, my sisters, and I have not spoken in six years. I can't recall the last time I spoke with my brother, as he doesn't respond to my emails or texts. My mother is suffering from rapid-onset dementia, while my father has recently retired from a lifelong career as a doctor. Throughout my life, my family has systematically scapegoated me, starting with being labeled the black sheep. However, everything changed when I disclosed at the age of 27 that my brother had sexually and physically abused me as a child. Since then, life has been a constant battle against me. The universe seemed to shift its axis, and my life has never been the same. It is particularly disconcerting that my brother, a urologist by profession, is the perpetrator of such heinous acts.
My sisters, as research suggests, took sides between the "black sheep/fuckup/substance user" and the successful urologist. They accused me of lying, changing my story, waiting too long, claiming it was nothing, and even being jealous of my brother's life, which includes a mansion, a Porsche, wealth, and respect. Since I have accomplished nothing, they believe I fabricated drunken tales of childhood and only decided to reveal this ultra-specific story at the age of 27. I never imagined that I would lose my family in this way. It feels like I have lost my identity, purpose, support system, best friends, and confidants – my sisters. They have subjected me to the silent treatment, which my brother also employs, treating me as if I don't exist. My sister's last text message summed it up when she said that they don't get together to talk about me anymore because I don't come up in their conversations. It was the same sister who initially encouraged me to reveal the truth about the abuse but then betrayed me and twisted the narrative.
In my family, my case of sexual abuse was not an isolated incident. My father, a physician and at the time a pediatrician in Illinois, had a second case of sexual abuse and incest in his side of the family. His younger brother, the second oldest among seven siblings, also abused his own daughter, my cousin. He is also Dr. A few years before I disclosed my own abuse as an adult, my cousin trusted my father enough to disclose her abuse to him. Despite my father not knowing about my case at the time, he took no professional action to report the abuse committed by another doctor, his brother, who abused his now niece, and did nothing.During that same disclosure, my cousin admitted that her two brothers, who are also my cousins, had abused her as well. This meant that five members of her household, three of whom were abusing one child, were involved in these traumatic events. My father, along with his brother and siblings, did nothing legally to report these incidents. My uncle, the abuser, is now the president of a hospital in East Texas. So technically, my case was the fourth, following my uncle, cousin, and another cousin. One of those cousins is now a pastor of a small church community, while the other works for a former presidential candidate's company. As for me, I have been trapped in a cycle of failure to launch as an adult, mental health issues, and intermittent substance abuse problems for the past 20 years. And that's not even the end of it – the fifth case involves my cousin, who was arrested in a state capital where he worked as a therapist or counselor. He was arrested for filming his young neighbor through her window. I am aware of his arrest but do not have any information regarding the progress of his case or its resolution.
To put it all together, it is an intricate mess of narcissism, ego, power, control, and childhood trauma. I strongly believe I have developed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of these experiences. In fact, I am certain that I have.
Fast-forward to the present, and I am writing this from a motel room, where there are too many details to recount from the past six months since my return from Montana. In a way, I followed the path of my other abused cousin – I left. However, I ultimately failed and had to return to a city near my parents, a city I despise. To add to my troubles, I was falsely accused of felony domestic violence soon after my return, further fueling my sense of failure and shame. My parents, upon hearing about the incident, made it clear that they wanted little to do with me. Speaking of Montana, my experiences and the year I spent there were truly nightmarish, to say the least. But that's a story for another time.
During the car ride to a hospital in a small town in the same county, my father and I had an opportunity for a discussion about the abuse. I wanted to understand why he did nothing in all five cases, why the eldest child seems to be targeted (true for my brother and cousin), why successful doctors are involved – including a pastor, a consultant, and now a urologist after the fact. Did he not notice the intergenerational pattern and his own parental negligence as a physician and a parent of adult children? I questioned why he took no action, why his behavior changed so drastically in the past three years, why he lied about his knowledge of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) when he had used them for possible infidelity and had lied about private settlements. He even harassed me using the police, assassinated my character in our small town, and now charged me with striking him, resulting in false statements and allegations. As a consequence, my reputation has been tarnished while my father's remains pristine. We currently reside in a town where he practiced medicine, and the consequences for me are severe. Deep in my heart, I know that his post-arrest behavior towards me has been consistently inconsistent. He evades questioning, avoids contact and visits, and shows no signs of wanting a relationship. Instead, he guilt-trips me, shifts blame, engages in word salad and gaslighting, and pathologically lies.
As I sit here now, I wonder: What can one do in such a dire situation? There seem to be no options, no answers, no safety nets of money or emotional support, no motivation, and no joy – only the looming threat of a potentially harsh sentence. Even worse, my father has attempted to record my phone calls and offered me money not to hire a proper defense attorney or pursue litigation, just a week before I was supposed to accept a four-year adjudication plea as an innocent party. Then, when I decided to plead my innocence at the last minute during the trial, he abandoned me once again, signaling to me that money is somehow tainted. Regardless, it's gone now.
I apologize for unloading all of this on Reddit, and I understand that it may be quite depressing for others to read. However, I feel that I have reached the end of my fight, not against just one issue, but against a conglomerate of issues that have stolen my life and time, offering me nothing in return. I desperately need legal advice, emotional support, prayers, or any form of assistance. I find myself lost in a maze of confusion, where every turn I make is a miscalculation, distorted by backward perspectives and reflections off other elements. Over the past six weeks since leaving my job due to a problematic relationship with the owner, I have been living a transient and isolated existence in the dark corners of this wretched city. It feels as though I have been exiled from my own life. I don't know what to do or who to turn to. I want to assure you that I'm not dramatizing this situation; I'm simply sharing my experience because I have no one else to talk to. I have been completely alone and isolated since losing my job.

My ex and I divorced 23 years ago because we disagreed a lot about priorities. I’ll just say right away that I worked maybe too much in the beginning of my marriage. My career is very prestigious and I worked hard to get where I am today.
Anyway. Our daughter Cassie lived with my ex and stayed with me on weekends. I paid child support and gave Cassie every thing she could need or want. Newest clothes. Electronics. Instrument. Trips. You know it she had it.
As she got older I tried to teach her lessons about work ethic, good education and a meaningful and lucrative career. Cassie is brilliant and could go ivy if she wanted to. When she started applying for colleges, her mother guilted into remaining in state. I didn’t want her to settle but liked the idea of saving a few grand.
Two years in Cassie started to gradually drop out. I say gradually because she went from 18 credits and on the dean’s list every semester to 12 credits then 6 and failing Biology and Math. It didn’t make sense.
Eventually she told me she couldn’t do school anymore and just wanted to work and make her own money. What teenager doesn’t want a free ride with no cares! I was paying for everything. All she had to do was study.
After a screaming match, we stopped communicating for a period of time.
Then just last week, she calls out of the blue to tell me that she lives on her own on the other side of the country. She and my ex are NC. She tells me that she’s ready to go back to school, but would need me to pay.
Hell no! I’m not an atm and since she’s 25, it’s not really my responsibility anymore.
My wife thinks I’m an asshole, and my daughter does too.

I had expected my ex to try something around her birthday in April fishing for information about our daughter, to recap she had not contacted the kid in over a year and blocked her from all social media and it didn't disappoint sadly it was a bad as expected
The people involved names are made up are my ex Josie, stepson Bob, ex boyfriend Sal my daughter Tea
Josie is a covert narcissist that walked out of the therapist office when she was being diagnosed with it,
Josie had Bob call Tea the day after Josie bday to gather information as to why Tea didn't call to wish s happy birthday, we didn't have a contact number for either of them until that day, Tea is 19 now and can speak for herself, during that inertial conversation Josie tried to paint herself as a victim claiming that she was being kept from Tea since the divorce, that's a lie, I have a custody and visitation agreement that was signed by the judge that she couldve enforce had she showed up in court I have been very clear and honest with Tea about the divorce and I encouraged her to maintain a relationship with her mom , but it hasn't been easy because she left the state and never came back. Thus communication started to deteriorate by may 9th the day that it would've been our 21st wedding anniversary
That same weekend was mother's day and Josie expected calls flowers cards etc from us obviously it didn't happen so she stopped talking to Tea for a few days as punishment, when she calmed down she started talking again and she was confronted by Tea for the things that she did to her, the lies, the gaslighting, Josie still sees her as a child so she got defensive and wouldn't answer anything for days.
By the end of May Tea sent her a message expressing that although she was hoping to remain in contact with her mom that it would me so much more harder without her being honest and taking responsibility for her actions and suggested a mutual exchange of information to begin with, surprisingly Josie agreed and over the next few days Josie weaved a very complicated web of lies that she couldn't keep straight, her stories changed when confronted with them it wasn't pretty
We discovered that she's dating now to the surprise of no one really because I expected her to have done that as soon as she left the house, then the explosion happened, Bob called my number and he is 21 but he is special needs he's got the mind of a 5 year old I suggested that he talked to his mom before continuing the conversation and hung up , he called back and told me that if I wanted to talk to him that I needed to talk to Josie first I said ok but I didn't call you, you called me
I must mention that when she left the state she left Bob at a group home and disappeared it was 14 months ago that I had contact her to let her and her family know that Bob was in the hospital And that he was in rough shape, that got me yelled at yelling me I had no business talking to him or having nothing to do with him to begin with,( I raised him since he was 10 months old ),I ended the call by telling her that I was just trying to inform her about the son that she left behind was sick and I didn't want anything from her and hung up
Fast forward to today after I got off the phone with Bob she called me, actually called me but what came out of it was nothing but another argument she had me on speaker phone and her boyfriend decided to get involved in it they both stayed to yell and cuss and I responded the same way, she yelled at me for the back child support she has to pay and the insurance copay, saying I did that, when it was the judge and the state that did it, he stated that if I had had sex with her more often she wouldn't have done anything, ( btw she was the one that didn't want to because it wasn't important to her yet she was screwing other guys that's the reason for the divorce) even threaten me over the phone which I found hilarious as they are in Illinois and I'm in Texas
Got off the phone and the conversation with Tea got so much worse that I had to convince her to just stop talking to keep her from saying anything too bad
Josie tried to spin/ history claiming that I did all the things that she did , that she was just a helpless victim, but the kid knows the story as she was there and I wouldn't tell her details but was honest with her, when confronted with it she just went in to gaslight mode which is her m o but Tea didn't buy it, I don't expect Josie to try to talk to Tea any time soon and I already blocked them from my phone and social media by the kid hasn't and I won't force her unless it gets worse which is about to , sorry about the rant I went to long

Hey guys, just wanting some opinions...
My husband and I are finally starting to get close to naming our daughter. We have chosen the first name Maia, which is significant/ meaningful to us for a huge number of reasons..
We've been struggling with a middle name, and my husband recently suggested Kailani. We are Australian born and raised, but his mother was adopted from Hawaii in the 1960's. Her adoption records are sealed and there's no way for us to find out her heritage, so we are unsure of whether she has native Hawaiian ancestry or not. We absolutely don't want to use a name if it's cultural appropriation, but my husband feels a connection to Hawaii because of his mum and thought it would be a nice tribute to his ancestry that we will never quite know. I wonder if anyone has any thoughts on this?

I have been with my partner for the better part of five years now. We have gotten really serious in the past two, committing fully with plans to move in and grow together. Her daughter was eight when I met them, and now she is almost 15. I love them like they are my own flesh and blood. It took a couple of years to decide that I wanted to take on the role of a step parent. I was pretty young at the time we first met, but now I'm 31, and my partner is 40.
I've always shown them that I am there for them and support them with everything she dreams and hopes for in life. She is mostly respectful, usually says I love you back, and from what I can tell and have been told, trusts me even more than her own mother.
About a year ago, just before Father's Day and after a long discussion with her mother, I sat her down and said I wanted to be more than "mom's boyfriend" to them, simply saying all that means is I am ready to start calling them my step daughter (even though we are not married and don't plan to be) and there will be a few changes in how we interact and the overall dynamic. I told them I wouldn't be able to replace their dad. She instantly replied that I should, hearing that caught me off guard and I had to readjust because I did not think they would say that. Just a year or so prior she was actively trying to push me out of the relationship. Hearing that, I knew they were likely on board with the idea. I remember being happy with our conversation and we went into my partners room and played couch coop on castle crashers.
Since then, we've mainly stayed "friends." However, she has started to call me dad every now and then and refers to me as such to her friends and family. I am so proud of her, I know how hard it is for her to express her feelings, especially love for a father figure that she was all but too used to seeing leave.
Her biological dad is mostly AWOL. He's been to one event in the time I've known them. I always made sure to go to every single one. I didn't have a dad growing up since I was born, and I made it a mission to provide everything for this child that I knew I missed out on. My selfish hope is that he stays out of the picture, as I know the kind of person he is as told by my partner; just like my dad was with me. False promises, etc. The whole nine yards.
Being a step parent is hard work. Especially if you aren't being met 50/50. I had to kick my partner in the ass a few times to step it up as a mother, and she's slowly been improving. Moreover, not having a father figure growing up into adulthood doesn't give you any experience to draw from besides something like "that would have been nice to share with my dad."
I feel fortunate that my step daughter still wants to spend time with me. We go out and walk around the town, go to the park, play ball, ride around and talk, go swimming, just have fun and enjoy each other's company.
The benefit I see right now is having a child that isn't my blood accept me as the father I was convinced I was incapable of being. I'm not perfect or even close to being normal, but seeing them smile, making them laugh.. really laugh like no one can hear them, listen to them sing, offer a shoulder to rest on, be a punching bag when she needs it, provide support and protection, and above all else, just watching them grow has been the greatest experience of my life.
They won't understand until they're an adult, but I plan on being there for it all. College, career, marriage, everything. Sure, she may not say I love you back every time, or not reply to a text, tell a lie; otherwise, be a teenager, but I do not blame them or take it too personally. Until the day she looks me in the eye and tells me to F off, I'll be there 110% committed and willing to provide for my little girl.
I had originally wrote this as a reply to another post but got carried away. I still want to share this story and my thoughts in the hopes that it may somehow be beneficial to someone. I love my partner, she provides everything I will ever need. I love my step daughter, she gives me a reason to live.

I rarely post, but recently I've been reading some posts where people offer uplifting responses to strangers. It has been a source of comfort for me lately. At the moment, I feel overwhelmed and defeated, with a deep sense of loneliness. I want to express my emotions intelligently, as I am experiencing profound emotional wounds and a lack of direction in my life. This description reflects my current state.
The aspects that define me at this moment are a combination of permanent, temporary, cyclical, and circumstantial factors. I find myself in the deepest depression I have ever experienced in my 41 years of life. Considering my current circumstances and the metrics used to measure success, I feel like a complete failure. If one were to analyze my job history and performance, there were moments of incredible opportunities followed by brief success, only to be followed by utter failure. Similarly, if we were to evaluate my personal life in terms of social interactions, dating/marriage, friendships, and health, I would be considered among the lowest performers. It seems like my entire life has been marked by failure.
Furthermore, it seems as though the universe has singled me out for some special kind of punishment. For years, I have felt a sense of surrealism, where every decision or action I take inevitably leads to unfavorable outcomes. Every significant matter in my life has ended in prolonged consequences, worsened circumstances, or some form of material loss. I have missed out on numerous opportunities, chances for marriage and having children have slipped away, I am financially struggling, and I have very few friends apart from one in my former hometown of Chicago and another in Alaska. My spirituality and faith have also been deeply affected by the setbacks and obstacles I have faced, and I am dealing with all of this without the support of my estranged family.
My three best friends, my sisters, and I have not spoken in six years. I can't recall the last time I spoke with my brother, as he doesn't respond to my emails or texts. My mother is suffering from rapid-onset dementia, while my father has recently retired from a lifelong career as a doctor. Throughout my life, my family has systematically scapegoated me, starting with being labeled the black sheep. However, everything changed when I disclosed at the age of 27 that my brother had sexually and physically abused me as a child. Since then, life has been a constant battle against me. The universe seemed to shift its axis, and my life has never been the same. It is particularly disconcerting that my brother, a urologist by profession, is the perpetrator of such heinous acts.
My sisters, as research suggests, took sides between the "black sheep/fuckup/substance user" and the successful urologist. They accused me of lying, changing my story, waiting too long, claiming it was nothing, and even being jealous of my brother's life, which includes a mansion, a Porsche, wealth, and respect. Since I have accomplished nothing, they believe I fabricated drunken tales of childhood and only decided to reveal this ultra-specific story at the age of 27. I never imagined that I would lose my family in this way. It feels like I have lost my identity, purpose, support system, best friends, and confidants – my sisters. They have subjected me to the silent treatment, which my brother also employs, treating me as if I don't exist. My sister's last text message summed it up when she said that they don't get together to talk about me anymore because I don't come up in their conversations. It was the same sister who initially encouraged me to reveal the truth about the abuse but then betrayed me and twisted the narrative.
In my family, my case of sexual abuse was not an isolated incident. My father, a physician and at the time a pediatrician in Illinois, had a second case of sexual abuse and incest in his side of the family. His younger brother, the second oldest among seven siblings, also abused his own daughter, my cousin. He is also Dr. A few years before I disclosed my own abuse as an adult, my cousin trusted my father enough to disclose her abuse to him. Despite my father not knowing about my case at the time, he took no professional action to report the abuse committed by another doctor, his brother, who abused his now niece, and did nothing.During that same disclosure, my cousin admitted that her two brothers, who are also my cousins, had abused her as well. This meant that five members of her household, three of whom were abusing one child, were involved in these traumatic events. My father, along with his brother and siblings, did nothing legally to report these incidents. My uncle, the abuser, is now the president of a hospital in East Texas. So technically, my case was the fourth, following my uncle, cousin, and another cousin. One of those cousins is now a pastor of a small church community, while the other works for a former presidential candidate's company. As for me, I have been trapped in a cycle of failure to launch as an adult, mental health issues, and intermittent substance abuse problems for the past 20 years. And that's not even the end of it – the fifth case involves my cousin, who was arrested in a state capital where he worked as a therapist or counselor. He was arrested for filming his young neighbor through her window. I am aware of his arrest but do not have any information regarding the progress of his case or its resolution.
To put it all together, it is an intricate mess of narcissism, ego, power, control, and childhood trauma. I strongly believe I have developed complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of these experiences. In fact, I am certain that I have.
Fast-forward to the present, and I am writing this from a motel room, where there are too many details to recount from the past six months since my return from Montana. In a way, I followed the path of my other abused cousin – I left. However, I ultimately failed and had to return to a city near my parents, a city I despise. To add to my troubles, I was falsely accused of felony domestic violence soon after my return, further fueling my sense of failure and shame. My parents, upon hearing about the incident, made it clear that they wanted little to do with me. Speaking of Montana, my experiences and the year I spent there were truly nightmarish, to say the least. But that's a story for another time.
During the car ride to a hospital in a small town in the same county, my father and I had an opportunity for a discussion about the abuse. I wanted to understand why he did nothing in all five cases, why the eldest child seems to be targeted (true for my brother and cousin), why successful doctors are involved – including a pastor, a consultant, and now a urologist after the fact. Did he not notice the intergenerational pattern and his own parental negligence as a physician and a parent of adult children? I questioned why he took no action, why his behavior changed so drastically in the past three years, why he lied about his knowledge of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) when he had used them for possible infidelity and had lied about private settlements. He even harassed me using the police, assassinated my character in our small town, and now charged me with striking him, resulting in false statements and allegations. As a consequence, my reputation has been tarnished while my father's remains pristine. We currently reside in a town where he practiced medicine, and the consequences for me are severe. Deep in my heart, I know that his post-arrest behavior towards me has been consistently inconsistent. He evades questioning, avoids contact and visits, and shows no signs of wanting a relationship. Instead, he guilt-trips me, shifts blame, engages in word salad and gaslighting, and pathologically lies.
As I sit here now, I wonder: What can one do in such a dire situation? There seem to be no options, no answers, no safety nets of money or emotional support, no motivation, and no joy – only the looming threat of a potentially harsh sentence. Even worse, my father has attempted to record my phone calls and offered me money not to hire a proper defense attorney or pursue litigation, just a week before I was supposed to accept a four-year adjudication plea as an innocent party. Then, when I decided to plead my innocence at the last minute during the trial, he abandoned me once again, signaling to me that money is somehow tainted. Regardless, it's gone now.
I apologize for unloading all of this on Reddit, and I understand that it may be quite depressing for others to read. However, I feel that I have reached the end of my fight, not against just one issue, but against a conglomerate of issues that have stolen my life and time, offering me nothing in return. I desperately need legal advice, emotional support, prayers, or any form of assistance. I find myself lost in a maze of confusion, where every turn I make is a miscalculation, distorted by backward perspectives and reflections off other elements. Over the past six weeks since leaving my job due to a problematic relationship with the owner, I have been living a transient and isolated existence in the dark corners of this wretched city. It feels as though I have been exiled from my own life. I don't know what to do or who to turn to. I want to assure you that I'm not dramatizing this situation; I'm simply sharing my experience because I have no one else to talk to. I have been completely alone and isolated since losing my job.

Burner account. Hi, I’m attractive, University education, three citizenships, no tattoos or piercings outside the ears, clean cut and classy. My spouse and I have been married for 15 years and there was never much passion. He’s a good provider but we haven’t been on a vacation in two decades. I want my daughter to have her dad but I want the love and adventure I worked my life for. Im Caucasian 5’3”, 124 lbs blonde hair brown eyes 43 but look 30. Any idea where I could meet someone?
No public photos because I’m married.

Hoping this doesn’t get deleted. A long time ago I started playing again after a long time of not playing. I noticed in my family tree there was a random baby (Jolene) that appeared that was the daughter of my first two sims, but those two sims had been dead since before I logged back in. I never created this child. Nor do I even know where she is in the game. Now, the same issue has appeared but with a different set a sims. One of my sims (Noir) has two kids, but then randomly yesterday another kid popped up in his family tree, and not a baby, I mean a full grown CHILD? Not only that, but his fiancé, is not the mother, and there is no mother for this mystery kid. Any info on if these two issues are related? Or how to find Jolene? Anybody else experience this?

I really hope they do a theater drop of the first two episodes like they did fro S1. I know its super unlikely. But it was a blast to sit in the audience whilst sitting between by daughter and mother.

This will be long, but if I don't get this off my chest I'm going to drive myself insane. I have 2.5 months left and with creeping blood pressure and worrying about kicks on my mind I don't want this to eating me.
So myself (30 f and FTM) and my husband(32 M) decided to move in with my mother for the last 3 months of pregnancy. I had a bad experience at the prenatal clinic in the town I moved from (northern BC, Canada) the medical was awful plus my husband was on break up (2-3 months a year when the oil and gas industry essentially shuts down during the first thaw) so financially and medical it made sense. (My husband is back at work now).
Anyways, my mom and me do not have a mother daughter relationship, it's non existent. She blames it on the fact that I put her through "hell" as a teenager and she never fully forgave me for lying stealing and being over all disrespectful. I apologized and did my best to rekindle everything. This was when I was 16 and again I am now 30, she never even remotely tried to help rekindle the relationship. Everytime she sees me she still brings up something I did in the past. Something that happened over 10 year ago.
She has sought after other younger females, these could be co workers who are younger or my brothers girlfriends and puts them under her wing. When I did visit she would almost always treat these girls like they were her daughters and she would make me feel like an outcast. She felt like a mean girl at school. As I got older and when I found my husband I stopped visiting all together, hardly ever talked to her and when we did visit I couldn't wait to leave again. She was always so condescending..
So this is her first grand child, and after my dad passed last September, she seems lonely. She lives in southern BC, and I lived in the north and I knew she'd make 0 effort to come up north, she never made an effort to visit my my husband and I before so why now she blamed it on being "to old" to travel (she's 49btw) . We always made the trips. After being guilt tripped basically. So that was another deciding factor to move because I'm considerate. I guess.
On to the concerns..My mom has suddenly taken a weird Interest in me and I know the only reason is because I'm carrying her grandchild, she referred to me the other day as her "baby girl" which was really cringy because it is the only time she has referred to my that way that I can remember. She went shopping for maternity clothes for me and when she asked me my style I said I'm not sure and she said "I'll just pretend to be pregnant and see what they offer ". She made a comment about her "helping " me raise the baby because my husband won't be around much( camp work oil and gas 14 days on 7 days off) and when she mentioned a name suggestion for the baby I said no husband doesn't like that name and she said "well he's not going to be here is he".
She bought my stroller, which I was hesitant to let her buy but appreciated it anyways. It's a beautiful jogger and she then goes "now I can take the baby running" I shrugged it off I mean no big deal but idk why it's replaying in my head, well all of this is.
Now the part that is going to sound awful. I have a strange suspicion my mom is going to try and idk the word I wanna use but I'll say "take" my baby over and try and raise her as her own. It's a girl btw so maybe she sees it as a do over. I also feel like that she might any day offer to adopt her from me. It's so irrational and it makes me feel like a awful disgusting human for thinking this but I cannot for the life of me shake this feeling.
Anyways, thanks for getting this far I appreciate any feed back. Lay it on me but basically I'm just venting.
TLDR : I think my mom might try and "take" my baby over from me

I had been contacted by the magistrate to investigate a night wedding in the countryside that had involved the loss of human life. There seemed to be a recent rise in tourists involved in ghost dowries over the years. However, from my research I believe it was a man in search of night weddings for personal gain that was the cause of so many deaths.
When I received the request, I was nearby on Green Island, and addressing a rather unique matter even for my line of work. A little girl from the mainland had arrived two weeks prior and claimed to be the recently deceased husband of the grieving widow.
The child claimed to have woken up in the hospital where the doctors informed them that they had drowned and was clinically dead for 4 minutes when the body inexplicably sat upright in the gurney. This would have seemed to be great news, except when the child looked into the mirror, it was not their face staring back at them.
In old Taoist texts I have read of such events, where the bodies of the recently deceased are not put to ground quickly enough, and their souls are left to wander. They could get carried away by the Northeast or Southwest wind. Depending on the location from where they died. And possibly attach to an empty host.
This seemed to be the case, as the wife acknowledged that due to the wet season, they did not bury her husband's body right away. Because the grounds were so wet, that any graves would wash away, leaving corpses laying in the street. Still, I had the responsibility of testing the child. Whom passed a simple test of naming names. Where they used to live. The wife's habits. A conversation they recently had, and even childhood memories. All were confirmed by friends and family. But it would be the child's handwriting that ultimately convinced me. They were a perfect match, down to the signature.
Upon my approval, the villagers had no choice but to accept that this child was indeed the man come back to life. And when I left, he was sitting outside of his house cleaning fish as he had always done for 32 years, except now in the body of a 10 year old girl.
I didn't have much time to dwell on this case as I was needed at the aftermath of the failed night wedding. Ghost dowries have been in use for thousands of years, and traces of it can be found in many different cultures. From the Aztec to the Egyptians, and more recently from old Spain to the streets of Southeast Asia. Though in recent times, only a few remote places continued the practice, and there are a limited number of priests today who are qualified enough to handle such a case. Luckily, I had plenty of experience in this matter.
In my early years, I had married many ghost brides.
And was often asked, "But you're a priest, how can you get married?"
"Zhengyi Taoist priests can choose to take a wife or not. In fact, in order to pass on my Celestial title, I must have an heir."
The man looked distraught, "And you're sure this will stop her from whispering into my ear every night?" He clutched the bag rather tightly.
"Don't you worry," I took the bag from his hands. "Everything will be fine."
We would perform the customary vows and the following night the man reported no more whisperings from his daughter, yet a week later, the police raided my hotel in a different district. The man had claimed that I had swindled him. That his daughter had returned and continued her whispering of terrible, horrible things that he dare not listen. Clanking and banging away in the walls as he covered his ears in fear until sunrise.
Fortunately, I was allowed to prove my innocence.
I returned and stayed in the man's room, waiting with him for signs of his daughter. And surely enough, late in the hour, I heard the wretched scraping and dragging in the walls. The man stopped breathing in his bed and laid perfectly still. Even I was afraid to move as the most dangerous aspects of my job are in the unknown. My mind began racing, wondering if I had somehow botched the night wedding. Or worse, that the ghost bride wasn't his daughter at all, and I had inadvertently given this mysterious entity a special anchor to this world, a holy man.
The walls shook without reason. And a tiny noise could be heard near the man's bedside. He jumped off his mattress and ran to my side. The two of us watched as the noise traveled back and forth against the back wall like wooden clogs.
"My daughter did always carry around a rattle drum when she was little," the man whispered.
"Hush, don't let it capture your breath," I warned him. "Whatever this is, I don't believe it is your daughter. And because of the ritual, we may have increased its hold on this realm."
He whimpered, "Not my daughter?"
I held up my finger and traced the noise as it traveled in an odd form. I began to wonder if the entity was creating some sort of symbol.
"What are you drawing," the man cried.
"It may be creating a portal," I told him. "Now hush before it turns its attention toward us."
"Please, there must be something you can do?"
I reached into my bag and pulled out some incense. I lit the ends and began chanting. From my waist I pulled out a long yellow parchment. And drew on it a sealing spell. "Spirit," I called as I stepped forward. "I am a guiding light." The noise rattled with conviction as I drew closer. "Let me lead you to peace!" And with one quick motion I punched my hand into the wall, clutching the sealing spell in my palm, at the last place I heard the noise. To my displeasure I felt something wriggling in my grasp as something long and thin wrapped itself around my wrist, its end clawing at my forearm. I screamed when I felt its teeth sink between the soft flesh of my thumb and index finger. But I did not let go. Instead I pulled out this demon from the wall and threw it roughly to the ground.
The man screamed as he jumped onto a chair and screamed, "Rat!"
Yes. A simple field rat. That had a trap stuck on its tail which caused its movements to rattle in the wall. That had been rummaging near the man's nightstand because in one of the drawers he had left a bag of watermelon seeds.
Not all cases are this simple, and plenty are true to life supernatural encounters. Over the years my experience has taught me to be more cautious in my evaluations. Which was why when I finally arrived at the house of the massacre due to a failed night wedding. Every hair on my neck stood on end as I tried to be objective as possible.
But there was no denying that something heinous had occurred here. Bodies were still laying on the floor. Some with their faces in the dirt. Some missing their heads completely. And those with their faces up, were unrecognizable. And my first wife leaned into my ear and whispered to me, "This is the work of a ghost bride."
"How do you know?"
"I recognize her anger. It was mine before we were married."
"How do I know what?" A man walking toward me asked. "Are you the priest they called out here?"
He was average built, and in plain clothes, "Detective, why yes. I am here to assist you in anyway that I can."
The detective spit on the ground, "Assist me? As far as I'm concerned we're wasting valuable time carrying on with this hocus pocus bullshit. The killer's trail will be cold by the time we get through all this religious tape." He wafted the air in front of his face, "And the dead bodies boiling out here. This is all your fault as far as I'm concerned. Assist me," he snorted.
"Where there any eyewitnesses, Detective?"
"Several. But they're all saying the same damn thing. Spouting a bunch of nonsense. Which is why those religious nuts down at the station dredged you up."
"All non-relatives to the home owners?"
He snorted again, "Coincidence."
"Let us hope so," I told him. "Because the alternative is much worse." I walked the scene, going around the upturned tables, tracing the steps of carnage in the courtyard, to the main living room. There I saw the body of an old man, both hands clutching his chest, his face was completely missing. "Any surviving family members?"
"Some are still left," he grunted. "But we've gathered most of them under police protection."
"Have you located the husband?"
"Yeah, we're trying to extradite him."
"Extradite?"
"The foreigner took off in the middle of all the commotion. Boarded a flight back home according to our investigation. We've contacted the airline, and the airport security in America will hold him when he lands. As he is currently my number one suspect."
I circled the area in front of the shrine. Noting the spilled bowl and its contents on the ground. The position of the spoon next to it. Before standing in the spot on the left side where the effigy would have stood. "What about the bride?"
The detective shook his head, "What bride?"
"It was a night wedding," I told him. "There must have been a physical object acting as a stand in for the daughter's soul."
"Nothing more than bags of cotton usually," he paused. "But they did report that the stand-in this time was some sort of department figurine. A mannequin of some sort."
"Have you looked into that?"
"Why would I look into that. Are you crazy?"
"Right, you're right of course. You'd have to wait until after sunset to be able to figure out which mannequin serves as the ghost bride's earthly form."
The detective stormed off as if I had said something outlandish. Leaving me to my own devices, I interviewed a few of the neighbors who had attend the night wedding, gathered some evidence and sorted with the other officers at the site, and then left for the nearest hotel in the city.
It had been a long month for me and I couldn't think of anything better than I would enjoy more than a cold beer. So after checking in I went down to the bar, where an ethereal creature sat alone. She was beautiful to say the least and I had to strike up a conversation lest I live a life of regret, "S'il te plaît ma chérie, dis-moi comment on t'appelle pour que quand je sois perdu dans les ténèbres. Puis-je demander la lumière."
"What?"
"Oh, American. I apologize. I thought you were French."
"On my mother's side," she brushed away her hair.
I noticed the ring, "Ah, you are married. My sincerest apologies miss."
"Newly married," she told me. "My husband speaking with the concierge."
"Activities on vacation," I mused. "How wonderful."
"It's nothing like that. It seems someone has left him a note. And we're technically on our honeymoon." She paused, "Though this isn't where we're supposed to be. We're supposed to be in Hawaii."
I ordered a beer with the bartender and sipped my drink, "Hawaii is wonderful, but this is also a beautiful island. In fact, when the Portuguese came here, they named it Formosa. Which translates to beautiful island. It may not be where you're supposed to be, but perhaps you'll find that this is exactly where you need to be."
The woman sighed, "I don't even know anymore."
"Ah, I know what this is. I've great experience in these matters. Having been married many times. You feel doubt."
She laughed, "How many times have you gotten a divorce?"
"Divorce?" I laughed. "I never leave a woman after we have been wed."
She looked taken aback, "Oh. I didn't know polygamy was so common in these parts." She glanced behind her to where a tall man was standing with what looked to be the hotel's concierge. "I guess we're in the same boat."
"It's not what you think," I told her.
"Where have I heard that one before," she rolled her eyes.
"Larissa!" The man called for her.
She stood up, "Well, it was nice meeting you. Tell your wives I said hello."
I smiled as she left, glancing at my sides. "If only you knew," I said while sipping my beer.
Now in hindsight, if I were not so fatigued after nearly a month of hard work and constant traveling. I would have perhaps picked up on the fact that she too was familiar with the concubine lifestyle. Which was unusual in itself for an American. Or perhaps I would have picked up on the fact that Larissa was an uncommon name. As I had read Jim's article. But there was no such luck, which is why, when I say that I am deeply regretful of what I read on the news later about the couple, I am truly at a loss for what I could have prevented. But that is not my story to tell.
After I finished drinking at the bar I made my way to the elevator and got in. When a man came towards me to hold the door, I called out, "It's full." He looked at me bewildered as I was the only person he could see in the elevator, before sticking his hand out to stop the doors from closing. Huffing and puffing as he glared at me angrily before pressing his floor number. Except the elevator pinged. The weight capacity light had turned on above our heads. "Like I said, it's full." The man shook his head in amazement. Pressing his floor number again. The elevator pinged again. Unwilling to budge. I sighed and got out, "I'll wait for the next one."
And wait I did, even in my room I waited for night fall instead of resting. The thoughts of a botched night wedding swirling in my head. For the many things that could go wrong. Because even though I had much practice in these matters, I was still always nervous before a fight. So when night fell, I was red eyed and exhausted, but better mentally prepared than before.
But when I arrived back at the scene of the crime, I was not prepared for all of the commotion.
"Ka-kin-eh Ka-kin-eh," a man shouted as the fire blazed.
I grabbed one of the men running by with an empty bucket, "What happened here?"
"T-the villagers, they set the p-place on fire. Trying to rid the evil demon."
I let him go and shook my head. The fools! I made my way toward the courtyard where I saw the detective from earlier moping his forehead as he was helping put out the fire. "Detective! This is terrible," I yelled as the flames licked the night.
"No shit dumbass, it's a fire."
"You don't understand," I told him. "Now the entity has nowhere to return. We may never find it."
He threw the bucket to the floor and whirled around, "Enough! I've had enough! Listen here, there is a fire. F-I-R-E. This a real problem. If it catches to the fields, it could light the newly laid fertilizer on fire and catch the entire mountain!"
"Detective!"
That was the only word I had to say before he punched me. It was a dark night out, but stars had suddenly appeared. He hovered over me and I thought he would strike me again but then suddenly he froze. "What is that?"
I turned my head and looked out into the field. The heat of the fire burning the back of my head as I tried to stop my nose from bleeding. "Where?"
Neither one of us moved as we watched the tall field.
"Right there." He pointed.
I reached up and threw his hand down, "No! You never point at entities," I told him. "Now you could be marked!"
He ignored me and reached for his gun, "Stop! Hey you! I order you to stop or I'll shoot!"
I looked into the field, scanning the endless rows before my eyes stopped and froze in horror. At one point in time the thing must have been a simple plastic mannequin. Standing in a department store perhaps. But now, it was twisted and gnarled. It's first dirty and unrecognizable. It stood on all fours sometimes threes as it swayed slowly back and forth. The thing was also without form because it didn't need to bend or move as normal people. It was still objectively, plastic. It swung its arms behind it and used that as leverage to run, turning its head - cracking the seams that had somehow still held and took off.
The detective rung a shot out at it. I think it struck but it didn't matter. Though the mannequin was gone. The detective must have lost his mind because he gave chase.
I couldn't let him go alone so I followed. Pulling out my long yellow parchment as I wrote on it the symbols for sealing, hoping the simple spell would work. As we entered the tall field.
It was chaos. The ground was mushy beneath my feet, and the smell of fecal matter assaulted my senses further. In the brush I had lost the detective, so I was forced to tell my wives to help me locate his whereabouts. They didn't often leave my side, and some were reluctant but ultimately agreed.
I stood in the field, waiting with bated breath as I heard further gunshots in the distance. I couldn't wait for my wives to gather as I tore after the detective. And just in time as I saw him standing, looking absolutely terrified as he shot blindly into the fauna until his pistol clicked. The mannequin lunged for him. But I got there first. Pushing him to the ground, causing both of us to tumble.
He was eating a mouth of dirt as I pulled him to his feet. "We have to get out of this field! The ghost bride will pick us off in this thicket!"
Stumbling, and running, the two of us were covered in more than dirt. Several times we heard rustling nearby as if something were running alongside us. But eventually we made it out into the open plain. The detective trying to catch his breath as he reloaded his pistol.
"Shooting it doesn't work," he panted. "But maybe I can disable it from moving."
"Shut up," I told him. "Listen."
He stopped for a moment and we waited. Then all of the stalks before us shook wildly as if a hundred people were running through it. The detective raised his arm but I stopped him as my wives ran out of the field.
They were terrified as they ran right through us.
I hadn't experienced the feeling in awhile but the coldness as their ghostly forms went through our bodies was cold as ice. It was enough to bring us both to our knees, clutching our chests as we struggled to breathe. I had passed through one or two in a row before. But never 10 or 20 at a time. I lost count.
"What was that," the detective managed to gasp, his fingers in a death grip around his gun.
"A blue procession," I told him. "Something caused all of my dead wives to flee."
We looked up as the leaves in front of us rustled.
"Is it..."
I shook my head, running forward to catch her. My 13th wife, Ah-ren. Her arm was missing, and a part of her shoulder. She was an innocent girl that had drowned when she was alive. Her innocence carried on with her to the afterlife where many souls generally grew up embittered. But never her, always sweet my girl, just weary of water.
"I didn't want to go," she told me.
"I know," I held her. "I'm sorry."
"It got some of the others too. But Meita got in its way and told me to run." She cried.
"Don't cry I told her. You know how you hate getting wet."
"I don't want to go. I wanted to stay with you. All of us together."
I watched as her soul splintered and disappeared forever.
I had never felt such fury. In all my years, a womanizer, a liar, a cheat at cards, a scoundrel, a bastard even. But an undutiful husband? Never.
Without thinking I approached the field and cast a spell that was been forbidden.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm purging the field. All beings alive or dead will forever feel displaced when they enter here. A feeling of unending dread and doom will overcome them, causing madness if they do not leave or are unable to. But I have no other choice." I reached into my side and threw a handful of salt. It landed on the ground as I chanted. The winds carrying it into the field, the small white morsels rolling obediently into the darkness.
"Nothings happening," the detective's word stuck in his mouth as a horrible scream echoed into the night. It sounded like two pieces of steel being twisted together.
"There," I took off after it. The jumbled figure of the mannequin fled toward the village.
We followed it through people's homes, and between alleyways; the villagers screamed and fled when they saw it. We barged through home after home as we chased it. Until we cornered it at an abandoned building at the edge of town.
"It was supposed to be a mall," the detective told me. "But the developers ran out of money."
We walked quietly into the empty building. Shells of stores stood in various degrees of construction. Checking a few of the fronts before venturing further inside.
"You've got to be kidding me," the detective said as we came near the center of the complex. There next to the escalators and the fountains was an army of mannequins of all shapes and sizes lined up like terracotta warriors. "They must have stashed them all here when the place was being built, and forgot about them when it closed."
"There are hundreds."
"We'll go through together. Quickly and quietly." He added, "Stay alert."
We moved through the rows, staring at all of the stuck faces, searching for one covered in grime and bullet holes. But it was more difficult than it sounded. Many of the mannequins were in bad shape, weathered, broken, laying in pieces on the ground. It was hard to tell if a pile of parts was indeed our culprit.
Slowly we began to clear the rows and I could see the other side in sight.
"There!" The detective shot his gun. The surrounding mannequins dropped like dominoes when the entity scattered. Falling down all around us, drowning in a sea of plastic arms and smiling faces. I was struggling to stand as I looked up and saw the entity come rushing toward us. The detective fired his gun blowing out a knee cap. I hurriedly reached for my parchment but could not find my pen. Another shot, but the scorned bride kept on charging unable to feel pain.
It jumped into the air and another shot blew a part of its face away. The detective screamed as it tore at him. Pieces of his sinew was launched into the air as he was torn apart. I rushed forward trying to help but the creature grabbed me by the throat and lifted me into the air. My feet searching for the ground as my lungs folded trying to breathe. The thing turned its head toward me and said, "Will you marry me?" As the darkness closed into the corners of my eyes.
The fight was leaving my body as I saw several of my wives rushing forward. Their ghostly forms ethereal as they began tearing at the mannequin, slowly pulling out pieces of her soul, causing the mannequins arms and legs to go limp as they dragged her out.
I scrambled the floor blindly with my fingers searching for my sacred parchment but could not find it amongst the rubble and the ghost bride was fleeing, leaving the shell of her mannequin in a heap on the floor. My wives chasing her, screaming their fury for killing the others. For destroying their souls.
I chased after them into the open air, where she was being cornered. Crying as I approached, trying to escape into the Southwest wind. I knew what I should have done, but could not bring myself to do the right thing. Instead I bit my finger and drew symbols on my forearms with my own blood. Approaching the bride that never was and tore her soul into pieces.
When I was done my wives sat down around me before slowly dispersing as the sun began to rise.
"We did it huh?"
I continued staring at the sun, "Yeah."
"Well then," the detective said before disappearing. "Maybe in the next life I'll be sooner to trust you."
Later they would find his body in the abandoned mall. Still clutching his gun. The department gave him a 21 gun salute at his funeral and a medal as commemoration. I was just glad that his soul had not been eaten.
I, on the other hand, went back to the hotel. To the bar and ordered a well deserved drink. Where I saw a pretty woman sitting alone, "Did you know that in order for me to pass on my Celestial title, I must bear an heir?"
​
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s

Helló! Id love to read some advice on learning a new language - Hungarian!
My husband and I had a baby 8 months ago. I myself was born in Hungary and am a citizen, but sadly don't know the language. My Hungarian mother didn't get to teach us when we were children as my father didn't know the language and didn't want to be left out (he didn't have the time to learn it). My husband and I want to learn Hungarian and give our daughter the opportunity to speak two languages, by having it as our main spoken language in the home (we are Australian otherwise and only know English). I also want to surprise my mum by speaking to her in Hungarian one day.
What apps, websites, subscriptions etc would you recommend and have had good experiences with? We won't be able to learn in person with a tutor so something online would be best for us.
Kösz!

Posts in this series (note: link will only work properly in new Reddit): https://www.reddit.com/lds/collection/363e4ce4-8cec-40ad-8ea9-5954cf1fe52d
Sorry for taking so long to get this posted! I’ve been putting in more than 60 hours a week at work lately, and I just didn’t have time to properly research this post.
This week, the topic under discussion is Joseph’s wives and the way that he personally practiced plural marriage. It’s true that some of the circumstances a little unusual compared to how later members practiced it, and it’s also true that sealing practices in general were unusual compared to how we practice them today. The world was also very different in the 1840s than it is today in the 2020s.
All of that means that it can be very difficult for us to understand what was going on and why. I’m going to do my best to break this all down so that it makes sense, but just remember, it’s okay if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s okay if you don’t like the idea of plural marriage. It’s okay if you don’t ever want to practice it. I don’t, either.
But I do have a firm testimony that it was commanded by God. That testimony didn’t just magically appear one day. I had to earn it. I had to get on my knees and pray, and I had to ask Heavenly Father whether He instituted it or not. I had to study the issue and the circumstances surrounding it. More importantly, I had to ask Him to help me understand the reasons why He instituted it.
That’s the only way to really know for yourself.
So, having said that, let’s get into Faulk’s claims.

• The Women

Due to the secretive nature of Joseph’s affairs, the actual total number of wives Joseph took is unclear. Written records, primary accounts and second hand accounts puts the number between 29-65 women.

They were not affairs, they were sealings. Sixty-five is also a pretty exaggerated number. Most reputable sources put it at around 30-35. And again, remember that sealings are different than marriages, even though we often perform them together today. Many of those sealings were for eternity only, not for both time and eternity the way that sealings are done today. In fact, some of those wives, such as Cordelia Morley and Rachel Ivins Grant, did not have any kind of union with him at all while he was alive, and were sealed to Joseph for the very first time after he was already dead.
One thing to remember is that the sealing power is to seal us all together as one giant family. It’ll be one unbroken chain connecting all of us together. Many of these sealings of Joseph’s were done for that specific reason, to bind families together in the next life. That’s why there were things like adoption sealings, where people would be “adopted” into each other’s families through the sealing process. Siblings were sometimes sealed together. Women who were married to men who were not members of the Church would sometimes to be sealed to righteous Priesthood holders for the next life.
Also, it drives me batty that Faulk keeps repeating that Joseph took wives. None of them were married to him against their will. They all had a choice in the matter.

Most disturbing was the fact that many of these women were already married, much younger and related to each other.

Why is that “most disturbing”? The women were all of legal marriageable age, and there is no evidence of any sexual relations between Joseph and any of the civilly married women, or with any of the youngest wives.
One of the reasons it’s believed that Joseph was sealed to so many women who were already married is because he was trying to satisfy God’s commandment while not hurting Emma. If he was sealing himself to married women, he wouldn’t have to actually marry them and live together as husband and wife. As the Gospel Topics Essay Plural Marriage in Kirtland and Nauvoo says:

These sealings may also be explained by Joseph’s reluctance to enter plural marriage because of the sorrow it would bring to his wife Emma. He may have believed that sealings to married women would comply with the Lord’s command without requiring him to have normal marriage relationships. This could explain why, according to Lorenzo Snow, the angel reprimanded Joseph for having “demurred” on plural marriage even after he had entered into the practice. After this rebuke, according to this interpretation, Joseph returned primarily to sealings with single women.

Joseph’s youngest wife, Helen Mar Kimball Whitney, was sealed to Joseph when she was fourteen. We’ll discuss her in some detail a little later in this post. But that union was done for dynastic/adoptive reasons at her father’s request, to join Heber C. Kimball’s family to Joseph’s in the eternities.
And, believe it or not, some of the women who practiced plural marriage probably found it easier to do so when the other wife was biologically related to them. After all, they already loved them and knew how to live together with them in harmony.
At this point in the LFMW, Faulk posts a small chart taken from Todd Compton’s In Sacred Loneliness. You can find that chart here.

1. Married: Between 8-11 women were married to other men at the time Joseph took them for his wives.

And every single one of them remained married to their husbands after they were sealed to Joseph. That’s because, again, sealings and marriages are not the same thing, and sealings for the next life had no bearing on their marriages in this one. Joseph did not live with these women as husband and wife.

He sent several men on missions for the Church then married their wives, or married their wives in secret and then sent the husbands on missions afterwards.

Many of the husbands in question knew about the sealings and even participated in them. Joseph also did not send the husbands on missions so he could marry their wives in secret.

• Marinda Nancy Johnson-Hyde-Smith

In September 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith moved in with the Johnson family while Joseph and Sidney Rigdon worked on translating the Bible. While staying with the Johnsons in March, 1832, Joseph Smith was dragged out by a mob and tarred and feathered. Marinda’s brother Eli led the mob because he felt that Joseph had been too intimate with Marinda.

Um. No. Eli Johnson was Marinda’s uncle, not her brother, and he wasn’t the leader of the mob. The mob also didn’t attack him for that reason. Marinda herself said that Joseph had never acted inappropriately while he was staying in her father’s home. This accusation was first introduced during the infamous 1884 Braden-Kelley debate, and repeated by Fawn Brodie, Grant Palmer, and a host of others.
The mob was led by Symonds Ryder and Ezra Booth, because they thought he’d try to steal their property under the Law of Consecration. They’d both already apostatized for various reasons, then led a smear campaign against Joseph and the Church through local newspapers for a while before leading the attack. The only evidence that Eli Johnson was even involved are brief reports that he was the one who provided and heated the tar. According to at least one account, he wasn’t even an active participant, but just left it out for them to use. The mob tried to castrate then murder Joseph and nearly did kill Sidney Rigdon, and were unsuccessful in all attempts.
However, as we all know, Joseph’s infant son tragically died from the effects of the frigid weather that night. Pretty tough bunch of guys, right? Gathering up a violent mob to go murder a baby.

Soon Marinda married apostle Orson Hyde. On April 6, 1840, Orson was sent on a 3 year mission to Jerusalem. Shortly after his departure, Joseph married his wife Nancy Marinda Johnson-Hyde while Orson was gone. In Joseph Smith’s journal, in a list of his marriages he wrote “Apr 42 Marinda Johnson to Joseph Smith.” In 1858 Orson and Marinda separated.

The separation of Orson and Marinda Hyde had nothing to do with her sealing to Joseph, which had happened 15 years earlier. The rest of this is also pretty heavily distorted. Orson Hyde was sent on his mission on April 15, 1840, and returned on December 7, 1842. There are two sealing dates for Joseph and Marinda, making it unclear when it actually happened. It was written down in Joseph’s journal by his scribe Thomas Bullock as taking place in May of 1842. This entry was apparently not recorded until after July 14, 1843, however, and the affidavit Marinda signed stated that the sealing took place in May 1843, after Orson was home.
Regardless of which date is accurate, Orson was not sent on a mission so Joseph could steal his wife if the sealing happened 2-3 years after he left. They were not sealed “shortly after his departure” at all. In fact, even the earliest sealing date is closer to the date he returned than the date he left.

• Zina Diantha Huntington-Jacobs-Smith-Young

Zina was 18 when her mother died and after went to live in the Smith’s home. Soon she met Joseph’s friend, Henry Jacobs. Joseph was to officiate their wedding, but never showed. Instead, bishop John C. Bennett performed the marriage. Later, Zina asked Joseph why he didn’t show, “He told her it had been made known to him that she was to be his Celestial Wife and he could not give to another one who had been given to him.” (Henry Jacobs, History of Henry Bailey Jacobs)
During Henry and Zina’s marriage, Joseph sent Henry on 8 missions. At one point Joseph sent a message to Zina through her brother Dimick. It read, “Tell Zina I have put it off and put it off until an angel with a drawn sword has stood before me and told me if I did not establish that principle and live it, I would lose my position and my life and the Church could progress no further.” After four proposals and pressured with the responsibility for the life of the prophet, Zina finally accepted. (Brian C. Hales, Mormon Historical Studies 11, no. 2 (Fall 2010): 69–70.)

That last line there is a pretty big exaggeration of what the article actually says. In fact, the article doesn’t talk about Zina Huntington at all. The only place she’s mentioned at all is her inclusion in a chart of the different accounts of the angel with the drawn sword. I’ve included a screenshot of the only three mentions of her from Faulk’s cited source. In fact, it’s actually a paraphrased line from Todd Compton’s In Sacred Loneliness.
Zina, however, clarified that she came to accept the principle through searching the scriptures and praying, and that she received an answer from God that it was from Him. It wasn’t because she felt pressured into it at all.
Unfortunately, it’s hard to pin down exact details when it comes to Zina’s timeline, as there are a lot of discrepancies. When I wrote my response to the CES Letter, I cited liberally from a book titled 4 Zinas: A Story of Mothers and Daughters on the Mormon Frontier. This book used to be housed on the Internet Archive, but has since been taken down. Forgive me that I can’t show exact pages anymore on those citations. Many years after all these events took place, Zina gave testimony saying that she first learned of the principle of plural marriage from Dimick, who had heard it from Joseph. Other sources, seemingly reliant on her diary, say that she learned it from Joseph while she was staying at his home. Some sources say that Joseph proposed to her three times while she was living at his home and that she refused him each time out of respect for Emma. Other sources say she declined to give him an answer and kept putting him off, also out of respect for Emma. Some sources say that Joseph wrote Zina a letter saying he’d been threatened by an angel with a drawn sword, while others say that it was a verbal message passed to her by Dimick, who had been sent to offer her another proposal (even though she was already married to Henry Jacobs at that point). Some sources say that Henry was present for that initial sealing to Joseph, but absent from the other resealing to Joseph for eternity and sealing to Brigham for time. Others say Henry was there for the sealing to Brigham, but are silent on whether he was there for the first sealing to Joseph. Zina said in her later testimony that it was just Joseph, her, and Dimick present at their initial sealing, but that Brigham later resealed them after he returned from a mission to England, meaning that she would have been sealed to Joseph three times in total. However, in signed affidavits collected by the Church, Zina, Dimick, and Dimick’s wife Fanny all verified that Fanny was there at the sealing, too. Etc.
Because of all of this, it’s difficult to know exactly what happened, who was aware of what, and when and how they all became aware of it. However, Zina did say that the Lord had prepared her for the doctrine prior to her hearing it:

I will tell you the facts. I had dreams — I am no dreamer but I had dreams that I could not account for. I know this is the work of the Lord; it was revealed to me, even when young. Things were presented to my mind that I could not account for. When Joseph Smith revealed this order I knew what it meant; the Lord was preparing my mind to receive it.

Additionally, Henry was called on his first mission in May of 1839, before he ever even met Zina. The guy was a prolific missionary who served repeatedly throughout his life. None of those missions overlapped with Joseph’s sealing to Zina.
In fact, according to family tradition, he was present when Joseph told Zina that the reason he hadn’t officiated their wedding is because she was meant to be his plural wife. Henry accepted the news because he was close to Joseph and trusted him. Zina was the one who hadn’t received an answer yet and still had reservations.

After Joseph’s death, Brigham Young also took Zina for his wife while she was still married to Henry Jacobs. Brigham called Henry to serve a mission in England and told him to find another wife. While Henry was in England, Zina began living at the Young house with her children and soon bore a child with Brigham.

Let’s walk through all of this. First, many of Joseph’s sealed wives who were already civilly married to someone else just stayed married to their husbands after his death. They had the choice on whether to re-seal themselves to Joseph or not, and the single wives had the choice of which members of the Twelve they wanted to be sealed to for time. Zina wasn’t forced to leave her marriage to seal herself to Brigham. She chose to do that.
Brigham supposedly told Henry to find another wife, though that can’t be corroborated. He also supposedly had to tell Henry to stop writing love letters to Zina after they were married.
Brigham eventually had several dozen wives and 57 children, in addition to being the leader of the Church and the governor of Utah Territory, owning multiple businesses, and directing the settlement efforts across a very large area. Dude was a busy guy, just saying. Zina did not live with him and did not spent tons of alone time with him. She lived for a time in a separate home with her children, and for a time in a house with several of his other wives. The time she spent alone together with him was sporadic and infrequent.
How would Brigham know that Zina was getting love letters from Henry Jacobs unless she told him? And if she enjoyed receiving those letters, why would she tell him? Why not hide them from him? It would’ve been pretty easy to do so—all she had to do was keep her mouth shut. It’s not like Brigham was snooping through all of his wives’ things in his limited free time. The only reason for her to bring the letters to his attention was if she didn’t like receiving them.
Imagine it from her point of view. You get divorced and move on. You describe that marriage as an unhappy one at several points throughout the rest of your life. You marry someone else and even have a child with them, but your ex keeps contacting you, telling you how much they still love you and still want to be with you. How uncomfortable would that be? It’d be an extremely awkward situation for anyone.
To me, it’s far more likely that Zina went to Brigham and asked him to intervene because it was making her uncomfortable than it is that Brigham found out on his own and flew into a rage and forbade Henry from contacting Zina despite her protestations.
Aside from a very few notable exceptions, most of Brigham’s wives and children spoke of him in glowing terms. Zina herself mentioned his kindness repeatedly.
Henry, meanwhile, was married three more times and all four of his marriages ended in divorce. I don’t know what led to the end of the other three marriages, but I do know that he’s the common denominator in all of those marriages.
It seems clear that Zina left him in what is sometimes called a “folk divorce,” which was a thing in the 19th Century where the man and woman decided to dissolve their marriage and go their separate ways, leaving each of them free to marry again. She chose to marry Brigham for time, and Henry struggled to move on afterward...for a time. Brigham asked him to back off, and he did.

• Vilate Kimball

Shortly after Heber’s return from England, he was introduced to the doctrine of plural marriage directly through a startling test. He had already sacrificed homes, possessions, friends, relatives, all worldly rewards, peace, and tranquility for the Restoration. Nothing was left to place on the altar save his life, his children, and his wife. Then came the Abrahamic test. Joseph demanded for himself what to Heber was the unthinkable, his Vilate. Totally crushed spiritually and emotionally, Heber touched neither food nor water for three days and three nights and continually sought confirmation and comfort from God. On the evening of the third day, some kind of assurance came, and Heber took Vilate to the upper room of Joseph’s store on Water Street. The Prophet wept at this act of faith, devotion, and obedience. Joseph never intended to take Vilate. It was all a test.” (Heber C. Kimball, Mormon Patriarch and Pioneer by Stanley B. Kimball, p.93)

Yep, because blessings come after the trial of our faith. Heber and Vilate were sealed for time and eternity that same night as a reward for their faithfulness. Theirs was one of the very first sealings of this dispensation.

Teenagers: Ten of Joseph’s wives were teenagers.

Here, Faulk posts another little chart, which I have also linked.

• Helen Mar Kimball-Smith

Instead of taking Heber C. Kimball’s wife, Vilate, as Joseph had done with others, he married Heber’s 14 year-old daughter, Helen, in May of 1843.

This is presented somewhat disingenuously. Joseph and Helen were sealed two years after Heber and Vilate were sealed. The two incidents are not connected at all. And, as mentioned earlier, Joseph and Helen were sealed at Heber’s urging. He wanted to link his family to Joseph’s in the eternities.

“The youngest was Helen Mar Kimball, daughter of Joseph’s close friends Heber C. and Vilate Murray Kimball, who was sealed to Joseph several months before her 15th birthday.” (Plural Marriage in Kirtland and Nauvoo, LDS.org, Oct. 2014)
In a letter written by Helen Kimball, her father had asked her if she would be willing to be sealed to Joseph Smith, Joseph himself came to her and said,
“If you will take this step, it will ensure your eternal salvation and exaltation & that of your father’s household & all of your kindred.” She talks of her mother’s hidden grief “to see her child, who had scarcely seen her fifteenth summer, following in the same thorny path [of polygamy].” “I would never have been sealed to Joseph had I known it was anything more than ceremony. I was young, and they deceived me, by saying the salvation of our whole family depended on it.” (Helen Mar Kimball, Mormon Polygamy: A History, by LDS Historian Richard S. Van Wagoner, p.53)

Ooh, this is super dishonest framing! The first two lines in quotation marks are indeed taken from an autobiographical letter written by Helen to her children in 1881. The first is from page 482 of a book titled A Woman’s View: Helen Mar Whitney’s Reminiscences of Early Church History, and the second from page 486.
But that third quotation, about how she’d never have been sealed to Joseph if she knew it was anything more than a ceremony? That’s taken from page 19 of an early anti-Mormon pamphlet called Narrative of Some of the Proceedings of the Mormons: Giving an Account of Their Iniquities by Catherine Lewis, published in 1848. She claimed to have heard Helen say this to her mother at some point, though everything in the book is suspect. It’s all pretty badly distorted from reality, which you can see for yourself just by reading it.
Helen herself certainly never backed up its claim. She did admit to being upset as a 15-year-old at being prevented from going out to dances with her friends because of the sealing, so it’s possible she said something like that at one point in her frustration and disappointment. But the circumstances surrounding it are certainly skewed, since Catherine reports it in the context of Helen refusing, after Joseph’s death, to be sealed for time as her father’s plural wife. That surely never happened. And in fact, after a few more years, Helen became a very vocal defender of plural marriage and of Joseph Smith for the rest of her life.
So, I’d take that statement with a very big grain of salt. That Faulk presents it here as if it was a direct quote from Helen’s own letter to her children is repulsive.

Joseph told a reluctant Helen Mar Kimball that if she married him it would ensure her salvation and the salvation of all her family. Imagine the burden on a 14 year old girl’s emotions of the salvation for her entire family riding on accepting Joseph’s proposal.

Except that Helen herself admitted that she didn’t understand what he was trying to teach her, and neither of her parents, who were there at the time of the proposal, understood it that way at all.

• Nancy Winchester Smith

While records show Nancy was married to Joseph, no dates were written. At the time of Joseph’s death, Nancy was 15 years old. It is possible that, like Helen Mar Kimball, Nancy could have been 14.

It’s not confirmed that Nancy Winchester was a plural wife of Joseph Smith, though evidence leans that way. We also have no idea when that sealing would have taken place, because no records of the sealing exist. We don’t know much about her at all. Her brother Benjamin was a known and rather hostile critic of Joseph’s who never mentioned the fact that they were sealed, so either he didn’t know about it, he didn’t see anything wrong with it (which is highly doubtful), or it never happened and her inclusion on the list was a mistake.
Eliza R. Snow listed her as one of his wives, and so did Orson Whitney, the son of Helen Mar Kimball Whitney. Helen was one of Nancy’s good friends so there’s solid evidence to believe it, but it’s not confirmed.

Unlike what is commonly taught in Sunday school lessons, marriages to young teenagers were not “common in pioneer days.”

Not true, and Faulk’s evidence for this claim doesn’t even say that:

“In 1890, when the U.S. Census Bureau started collecting marriage data, it was recorded that the average age of a first marriage for men was 26 years, and the average age of marriage for women was 22 years.” (http://classroom.synonym.com/agemarriage-us-1800s-23174.html)

Note that this quote says the average age was 22 years old. That means that some women were much older and some were much younger. 1890 is also half a century later than 1840, and society can change a lot in 50 years.
Craig Foster wrote a great article for the Interpreter a few years ago) which demonstrated that in frontier America in the 1800s, females often married quite young, and their husbands were usually older and more settled. It was much less common in the settled cities along the East Coast, but on the frontier (which included Ohio, Missouri, Illinois, and especially Utah), it was relatively common. Men in their 20s-40s marrying teenagers was not unusual.
Even today, it’s legal for teenagers to get married. Let’s not forget that most of Joseph’s teenaged wives were 17-19 years old. Many of us in this church know women who got married at 18 or 19. While they are technically still teenagers, calling them teen brides is implies that they were underage.
The entire concept of “underage” did not exist in the 1800s. In fact, the concept of “teenagers” didn’t even exist back then. You were either a child or an adult, and there was no in-between.
Applying our societal standards to a past society and judging them for their lack of adherence to our norms is a logical fallacy known as “presentism.” I get it—today, it’s unusual and it makes us squirm to hear of girls aged 14-16 getting married. But it was also not out of place in that day and age. And, most importantly, there is no evidence of any sexual activity between Joseph and his youngest wives.

3. Mothers and Daughters: Joseph married a mother and daughter pair.

• Patty Bartlett Sessions (Mother – already married to David Sessions)

She was sealed to Joseph for eternity while her husband was a faithful member of the Church, and though she and her husband both later received their endowment, they weren’t sealed at that time. She also didn’t re-seal herself to Joseph in the temple after his death the way that many of his other plural wives did. The reasons why are unclear. After her husband’s death, she was sealed for time to another man. Around 1867, after submitting an affidavit concerning her plural marriage to Joseph, she was offered the chance to be re-sealed to Joseph again, though I’m not sure if she accepted or not.
We don’t know the reasons for this sealing, just like we don’t know the reasons behind many of Joseph’s sealings to civilly married women.

• Sylvia Sessions Lyon (Daughter – already married to Windsor Lyon).

Windsor Lyon was excommunicated from the Church in November of 1842. Joseph and Windsor remained good friends for the rest of Joseph’s life. There are conflicting dates from two unsigned affidavits saying that Sylvia’s sealing to Joseph either took place in early 1842 or early 1843. Brian Hales favors the later date.
If he’s right, this appears to be one of those sealings where Joseph was sealed to a woman whose husband wasn’t (at the time) a faithful member of the Church so that she could still obtain exaltation.

Sylvia bore children with both husbands; three children with Windsor and one with Joseph. (Josephine - February 8, 1844)

No, no, no. She most certainly did not have a child with Joseph. For a long time, it was considered an unproven possibility, but was never definitive. However, even the possibility was ruled out by DNA testing in 2016, seven years ago.
The fact that this is still in the LFMW after all this time caught me by surprise. We know the LFMW has been updated since its first posting, since the original FAIR rebuttal addresses differently worded accusations. There was plenty of time to correct the inaccuracy. In fact, this particular objection appears to have been added to the original text, rather than removed.

4. Pairs of Sisters: Joseph married 3 pairs of sisters.

• Emily Dow Partridge and Eliza Maria Partridge.
  
• Sara Lawrence and Maria Lawrence.
  
• Zina Huntington Jacobs and Presidia Huntington Buell.
  

Yep, he sure did. Zina and Presendia (her name is not Presidia) were both sealed to Joseph for eternity only, with no marriage in this lifetime. But Emily and Eliza Partridge and Sarah and Maria Lawrence were all sealed to Joseph for time and eternity.
Again, though, I’m not sure why this is supposed to be a point of scandal. None of them were married against their will. They all had the choice, and they all agreed to these arrangements. Is it unusual? Sure. It’s weird, I think we can all agree with that. But is it sinful? Nope. When God commands polygamy, it’s not sinful, and levirate marriages have been around for thousands of years. This is somewhat similar to that practice, particularly in the case of Mary and Mercy Fielding and Hyrum Smith.
Remember, when plural marriage was first introduced, they weren’t really given a rule book. There are some directions and guidelines given in D&C 132, but they only cover certain situations. In the Nauvoo days, they were basically winging it. They had to adjust to the new commandment that completely upended their entire lives and then figure out the best way to live it. There was trial and error, heartache, sacrifice, and suffering involved. It was not easy for any of them, and they did the best they could. If they made mistakes, they need our grace, not our judgment.

Alright, as preface; I am not a devotee to Santa Muerte. I don't have any connections to her besides what i am establishing these days, and i do not really intend to be here long, its just happening like this. So recently i have been hearing a lot about Santa Muerte, through podcasts and videos (shout out to wicked witch of LA interview with Witch of Wunderlust and The Red Cross Podcast!) and have even bought a book about her, reading most of my information off the web since the book isn't historical in nature, mainly ceremonial. In exposing myself to all of this media about her, as well as just having a very big love and (albeit stifled) embrace of her, i have felt like a lot of funny synchronicities have happened and i needed some clarification on if this 'counts' as anything. So after some weeks of at least some interest and a lot of curiosity about her, i have found myself in love with her image, and mental idea of her kindest self. I mean, death is something that totally encompasses every single one of us, imagine if—personified— it would be all embracing and amoral, as well as having a very machisma feminine energy that feels like a mothers tough love and ability to get shit done. Well Ive heard enough to understand her general gist, and the rest just feels as if its come to me by nature, like I'd know death if i had seen it. I am respectful, and havent physically started welcoming her, but mentally i feel like im embracing her, getting to know her or feel signs of her. Well of course, visiting a local botonica, i encounter a whole section dedicated to her; plenty of great statues and candles and books— which, one i pick up, if nothing else, but to be more informed. I havent opened too much, but i have seen she likes caves, and apparently her altar requires like,, the three cups of water. Funny but good to know... anyway, i live in a predominately lantix area, and i have mexican american roots, however, heavily whitewashed i am. So of course, while mediating on certain ideas and aspects of La Muerte, i invite her here and there. ~ it began with cigarettes, im a smoker, my mom is, so of course i naturally offer her smoke. "These first three drags are for you, Santisima" i pray in my mind, with no request, mainly just an ode to her for my cigs and weed. That happens sometimes, its whtever. Then i found myself putting a cigarette on my altar and declaring mentally, "for La muerte, with love." now this altar, isnt specific, at all. i go there to pray to the divine, and i imagine its just a place to invite spirit, it stays cleansed, there is offerings i freshen before each guest, and a cup of water sits as a protection/channeling element to symbolize the spiritual work happening there, if anything. My practice is very vague but effective for me. So theres her cig, the book that sits im the cabinet that i refuse to say "invites her in my dwelling" but would be remised if i didnt acknowledge that it is HER book and used as a TOOL to invite her, under my altar, and usually a spell candle for money, protection or the likes. So after some time just, revering her, i asked a favor, and mentally declared, i would buy her a pack of cigarettes and keep them, mainly for her. I had no luck with some funds for a second, and threw the candle that was pre-prepped, and just made a deal, which thanks to some loose constraints, i found granted QUICKLY, almost a day after pouring new water, cleaning my altar, and burning some offerings, i just mentally said, "if you can help me here, ill grab some cigarettes for you." Now see, i definitely i give her a lot more praise that im typing, but you dont need, THOSE details, what you should know is, a settlement landed in my favor, and i made the goal (through her grace). it happened on a day that i decided to wear a headcovering, for style, and it was the day i bought her a pack. It felt like, in exploration at least, i would dedicate the day to veiling my head in her honor. Now, it wasnt easy, and i kept adjusting all day, but it mostly stayed on till my nightly shower. Course, the first cig was hers, i smoked for her, veiled in her glory, and from that moment i felt good. so, on the altar shes got some candy, a caramel apple sweet, put in the offering dish with my petition. Well, today, getting ready for work i asked, her to send me a sign. three even. maybe her image, maybe something miraculous . who knows but i was eager to see what would come of it... well... today, the day after the petition was fulfilled, i was running late for work and the bus wasnt an option. in my lyft, after stepping in from a hot and muggy day i was greeted with pleasant and quiet driver - who cranked the A/C and on the floor in front of me, was a pack of Kools, from which three in tact and clean cigarettes spilled out . They weren't the drivers and funnily enough, it didnt look like the front was occupied since the chair was forward and leaning towards the dash. thats the first sign, and i politely put them in my bag, thanking her grace. then today at work, one of the first customers i greeted was a burly man, very kind, and from just above his chest peaked a skull and scythe, her eyes meeting mine from behind his wife beater, was Death, La Muerte. two funny dings to my psyche, but what happened just now after a long shift , i head to my room, glance at my altar and see a single, apple caramel bonbon wrapper. i flipped for a second. now i write this. needing input from the community to know or at least hear where you think i stand with her grace. p.s. Previously mentioned. latinx community, lots of tattoos of skulls and half of them being saints with half being death/La Muerte so i feel like thats too easy. So through the day i was veiling (the day before these signs-) a customer showed up with her rosary, a gorgeous piece, on a young girl, when i acknowledged it, her mother seemed a bit upset, but as they left, our good bye lingered a second longer than the usual one. and as a last thanksgiving before bed, i blew a puff of weed on a tapestry that has has a huge skull. Also, my little sister, who usual stays off my altar, went into my room looking for a "snack" and found a single bon bon of the three in my offering dish. which to me, feels comforting, like it was meant to happen for my third sign. i feel crazy about all of this, but it also feels wicked cool! please let me know what you all think !!! PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THIS I WOULD LOVE TO TALK ABOUT IT :)

TLDR: Venting and also looking for ideas, thoughts, suggestions and even book recommendations to repair strained mother-daughter relationship.
I'm 28 and my mother is 58 over the past few years our relationship hasn't been the best. For some reason growing up I always felt the pressure to be good and always felt like she compared me to others like my friends, cousins, looking back maybe she was a bit strict and controlling but I get it since her mom passed when she was 15. I often get responses from her saying I could give anything to do this for my parents right now. Now that I am older, I still feel like she's comparing me to so and so, controlling what I should be doing in my life. It's always me that has do everything for her, my dad, my brother and even her sister who has no children. She likes to talk on the phone but typically our phone convos are about things for me to do or what's going on at work or other people lives. Like besides my relationships with friends and colleagues, I have never talked anything too personal or dating relationships with my mother. I have been going to therapy for the past few years and that's where I feel like I can have real meaningful convos and learn how to grow and be a better me. With my mom it's more like do this, do that or don't do this or that.
For example my dad might have some illness where he goes through ups and downs, he has never been financially responsible, couldn't keep a job and is just into living a world of conspiracy theories and there was a time he was practically homeless and as 26 years old I ended having to live with him since my mom doesn't even live in the U.S btw and is too religious to leave him. During that time I always felt like I had to cook and clean, she'd call me asking me what I cooked for my dad and I etc and that situation living with my dad was a lot and I would get mad at them and at life, because I had friends getting married, moving in with their SO but here I was sharing a 1 bedroom with my unemployed dad and my brother would come home from college and stay with us. During those times I'd try to have boundaries and kind distance myself from it all but often got the comments of "so you think you are working and making money you can treat us with disrespect or you think you are better than us" while I was like well this doesn't feel too normal to me to live like this and I want to live my own life. I also think that my dad possible illness has turned her into maybe an extremist in her faith. I love my faith and I try to work on my relationship with God but often feels like if I'm not practicing it her way by going to church every Sunday then I am the biggest sinner doing everything wrong. Then there be the times where she would ask me to do things for my 19 years brother like search summer jobs or internships for him, makes sure he applies. I get that's he's young but it often feels like she wants me to mother him and I sometimes end up doing it and nagging him. Also my brother may not be straight and lately when my mom visits and is around him she brings up religion and how people that identify as LGBTQ are satanic, this doesn't sit well with me nor him. It saddens me that my brother may never be his true self around his family. For those reasons lately I have been trying to keep boundaries with my mother, we don't talk on the phone everyday like I we used to since she would call me everyday. When we do talk I try to limit the time since we are not talking about anything serious either. I do love and respect her, I understand she did the best that she could to give my brother and I more opportunities than she could ever had but as I am trying to live my life I am often exhausted because I feel like I should work as much as possible to have enough money for my entire family in case they ever need as it has happens quite a few times or talking to them is always about issues or things to be done and it's always something for me to do and no one is doing nothing for me here. Juggling all those family issues, a stressful job and trying to have a decent social/dating life is tiring.
That being said I have been a little cold and distant and she is really upset as when things like mother's days or her birthday which is 6 days after Mother's Day come around, I have been sending her text messages early in the day wishing her Happy Mother's Day/ Happy Birthday, even got flowers delivered while we are in 2 separate countries then calling her on the phone at night or end of the day when I am done working and she was still so upset. She explained that me calling after her siblings, cousins, friends who are her age and some nieces is unacceptable and its making her realize that nothing is important for me or she is not important to me and that if that's what she deserves she accepts. In my defense I never talk on the phone unless it's work or her. She said that she noticed that others or my friends are proud of their parents and post their parent or mom on their social media but that's not me I kinda hate social media most of the time and don't even post myself. From her perspective I can see and understand that she's hurt but honestly I am proud of who she is, proud to be her daughter. But lately with all of our fighting its hard to be proud when I see her accept my dad's behavior and lives in constant financial struggles because of him and I am not too proud when she doest accept my brother. I feel like all she does is pray that my dad will be better or pray the gay away for my brother. It's sad to me that it's rare for me to see her have fun or live so I feel like she tries to live by controlling my life at times and being her daughter feels like a burden lately. I am lost on what I can do to move past this and repair things.