Relationships

Hi, my name is AmbitiousCrab4013. I'm here because I found myself in a controlling relationship that resulted in me being lured away from my friends. I have a house with him and we are attempting to go out separate ways, and I have been using alcohol to cope and can't do that anymore.

#MightyTogether #Grief #Depression #OCD

From a young age, I stood out—not for academic brilliance, but for the quiet battles I fought within myself. While I learned to read early, the ease of those early years gave way to confusion and mental fog as schoolwork became more complex. Numbers never made sense to me; dyscalculia turned math into a foreign language, and my mind often wandered, escaping into daydreams when tasks became overwhelming. My concentration faltered, and I began to shut down under pressure. Teachers saw me as inattentive, but inside, I was fighting to stay afloat in a world that didn’t seem built for the way my brain worked.
My confidence suffered. I carried a persistent sense of inadequacy, questioning my own intelligence and worth. Though kind and deeply empathetic, I was a slow-moving perfectionist—afraid to get things wrong, yet often feeling like I did. My emotional landscape was shaped not only by academic struggles but by a complicated, often painful relationship with my mother. Born into a home where my mother had wished for a boy and suffered from postpartum depression, I grew up with a void in maternal connection. I yearned for affection but also resented it, often projecting my emotional confusion onto mother figures and even going so far as to turn off my phone’s location services as a form of rebellion and self-protection.
Despite the emotional weight I carried, I was headstrong—determined in a way that surprised those around me. A moment that became family lore happened when I was just under two years old: a toy placed out of reach on top of the refrigerator somehow ended up in my tiny hands, retrieved with stealth and purpose. It wasn’t just mischief—it was early evidence of my laser focus, my ability to pursue what I wanted, no matter the obstacle.
My saving grace as a child came in the form of teachers who saw beyond my struggles. Gail Wories, a nurturing presence during my early school years, noticed my difficulty with math and stepped in, offering one-on-one help and even restructuring her day to give us more time. When my mother dismissed my need for glasses as fakery, Gail believed me, moved me to the front of the class, and wrapped me in a hug the day I finally got the glasses I needed. I, in turn, grew emotionally dependent on teachers like Gail—adults who offered the stability and encouragement I lacked at home.
The moment I read Little Women in third grade, Gail shared the achievement with other teachers, a rare moment of recognition that made me feel seen for my strengths. Later, in high school, another key figure entered my life: Joel Noorman. Blunt but perceptive, he challenged my self-doubt by telling me (my words, not his), “You’re too smart to be this stupid.” It was the first time someone confronted my internalized beliefs head-on, and it stuck. Slowly, I began to shift—not by erasing my struggles, but by learning that intelligence comes in many forms and that my unique wiring didn’t make me broken.

How to begin positive relationships with families: 8 tips to try
How to begin positive relationships with families: 8 tips to try

Hi, my name is Myhereandnow. I'm here because for the past several months I have been remembering repressed trauma. I now remember being brutally sexually assaulted and raped several times as a 4 and 7 year old. These memories have thrown my reality for a loop. I feel like my feet have been kicked out from under me and I have struggled to cope and do daily responsibilities. I have very little capacity for my kids. I have constant panic attacks and horifying nightmares. The memories feel fragmented and foggy. I am having a hard time trusting they are real since it’s so far the childhood I thought I had. But the reaction my body is having to remembering them is so strong that it’s hard not to believe they are real. So many other fears and aversions and relationships throughout life make sense now. I have a really good therapist that I have been seeing and doing A.R.T. and EMDR therapy with. That is helping. I mostly want to talk to others that have gone through this. Was it this disorienting for you too? Do you have a hard time believing it is true? I feel crazy and dramatic and scared to tell my parents and sister about this. I remember protecting my little sister from this perpetrator, but knowing her and my parents, I think they will dismiss all of it and call me crazy. My husband is very supportive and I have told a few friends, but all of them say things like, “how sad,” “how horrible,”. Then the conversation moves on. Know one knows just how horrible it really is. It feels so lonely to hold something so heavy by myself. Does anyone have recommendations for good books or resources to learn more about what I am dealing with? I am reading “the body keeps the score” it is triggering but helpful. I would love to learn more.

#MightyTogether #PTSD #Repressed memories#Anxiety

I have started a new job. Im a smaller city that many people don't know about if you're not from around here or from this state. And so my new co-workers have been asking me what brought me here. And I'm embarrassed to admit the real reason (i move here with my ex-fiancé and I ended the relationship but I didn't want to move with my parents so I decided to stay and I'm still living with him) so I just say that it was a nice city and I just wanted to keep exploring new places.
Part of me feels terrible to be cutting him off from "my story" but I also think it's too much "drama" to be had in a new job.
It feels wrong to cut him out of my life story just like that. Like his life was nothing. It's hard not to feel like a terrible person.
#Depression #MentalHealth #Relationships #Grief

I've been thinking a lot about the relationship between disability and perfectionism. I'm told I was "born a perfectionist." Even as a young child with a physical disability, I hated falling, and it would ruin my day if I made a small mistake. People never seemed to know what to make of me, or how to calm me down when I did something "imperfect." In hindsight, I wonder how much of this had to do with the experience of growing up disabled - particularly the feeling that I was constantly being watched because the way I moved was different or wrong. I wonder whether perfectionists are really born that way, or whether their behaviour is a product of their environment - though of course, the reality is probably somewhere in between. What are your thoughts?

#CerebralPalsy #Disability #Anxiety #ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder