Obviously I know everyone’s mileage varies and all that…but I’ve recently begun to suspect that my T is aromatizing despite my high SHBG (which my doctor thought had been suppressing my free T and thus making my levels substantially lower than they actually are). At this point I will not survive another period. Birth control is off the table because it makes me psychotic, all of it. A hysto is a certainty but I’m thousands of dollars in debt so it has to wait.
So I’m gonna ask about E blockers or I guess an AI (aromatase inhibitor) because I can’t do this anymore. None of what’s been happening to my labs or my body over the past six months or so makes any sense anyway. So at this point I think I need to just deal with what’s in front of me and put a stop to it indefinitely until I can make it permanent.
I’ll admit I’m not super thrilled about going on a mystery medication and potentially adding to the confusion, but I’m desperate. This cannot wait.
Has anyone had experience with this, specifically being on a blocker of some sort in conjunction with staying on T? I’ve been on T for almost 7 years. Things seemed more or less okay until I was made to lower my dose drastically at the end of 2021, which started one issue after another that I have yet to recover from. Until a couple of months ago I was on 3 pumps of Androgel and it seemed like it was a good dose for me, at least I wasn’t bleeding monthly for the most part. I mean, I realized in hindsight that what I thought was atrophy related, was actually spotting that aligns with my cycle-first week of the month. It wasn’t every month though…and it was nowhere near as debilitating as a full-fledged week or so of PMDD and then Uncle “Fuckhead” Floyd.
I cannot even begin to explain how drastically this has affected me. It is truly a threat to my mental and physical health. I feel sick even talking about it. I need a solution that will have a hope and a prayer of working before next month because otherwise, I don’t really know what’s gonna happen to me. It’s like I go into this other mental state that’s beyond any dysphoria I’ve ever felt. It’s terrifying.
Any ideas? I have gone back to 3 pumps of Androgel after two months or so of trying a higher dose and using compounded cream instead. So now my dose is lower, since raising it causes all hell to break loose.
I’m honestly beginning to think T just doesn’t work for me, that it’s done all it can and that all it’s doing now is complicating my life and health. For the first 4 years or so, things were slow but nothing like this was happening. My labs made a lot more sense. I think some of this might be long Covid relayed. But it doesn’t matter now. My point is I need to stay on T because no amount of working out will give me the body I need and estrogen destroys my mental health. And I don’t believe I would pass anymore if I went off it, either.
Something is wrong with me. Something is very wrong. I have had a pelvic ultrasound (the one where they put the “thin probe”- it’s not- in your no-no hole and all that, guh, anyway) and everything was normal. Last pap torture bullshit was normal. I’m not on hormonal birth control and never have been. My thyroid is fine. I take vitamins. I am Aquarius. I think that’s everything.

Hello Everyone,
I’m looking to get some advice on a lingering shoulder injury, I have been dealing with for roughly 6 years now. I am a 26 year old male. I started lifting weights my senior year of highschool. Sometime in my sophomore year of college, I started dealing with some light left shoulder pain near the back of the armpit that would sometimes radiate into the shoulder blade. Back then I was able to work through it, but now it is getting to the point where i cant really do much of anything with that shoulder. Heres a brief chronology of my experience. Started feeling left shoulder pain, worked through it. Suffered an AC joint separation in the same shoulder (grade 1). Happened while curling, was in a sling for a while. Recovered well and kept working out. Shoulder really started to hurt while benching, went to the doctor and was sent to 12 weeks physical therapy. It helped out but I was never able to workout my chest at the same level as the rest of my body. Was able to lift for a few years relatively pain free, but it went bad again, and ended up back in PT, and it didn’t go well this time. Even the lightest exercises in PT hurt. I went back to my doctor who suggested I may have a torn Labrum then ordered an MRI with contrast and referred me to a specialist. I had the MRI, but the hospital did not do it with contrast, so the specialist could not tell if it was torn or not. They then said the best thing they could do was a cortisone shot. This helped for about 2 weeks then the pain returned. I never got another one.
At this point, after 2-3 years of doctors and PT, and thousands of dollars, I was frustrated and a broke college kid, so I stopped seeing doctors. I was able to continue to workout lightly, with manageable pain, for the past few years. That is no longer the case. Now any type of weight held in my left arm too long, will trigger it. Its evolved into pain at the far left side of the armpit, radiating to the shoulder blade like a strain, and when really bad there will be nerve pain radiating down my arm to my elbow. It can be triggered by just walking, leaving the shoulder unsupported for 30 mins to an hour.
Could this be a torn labrum? Any other thoughts on what it could be? Im skeptical about going back to doctors and getting no answers again. Should I go back anyway?
TLDR: left shoulder pain radiates to shoulder blade with nerve pain down the arm, triggered by lifting weights, stretching, and leaving shoulder unsupported for too long. Doctors and PT have historically been little help. Potential torn labrum??

I genuinely don't get it.
My son is 4 months old and naps approximately every 2 hours throughout the day. When it comes time for bed... oh man. I'm pretty sure that baby is a actually a changeling. I get that there's supposed to be a "4 month sleep regression" but damn. This is bad.
For his naps, usually after a 2ish hour wake window following sleepy cues, I take him into the bedroom. I nurse him in the rocking chair, pat his butt, he falls asleep, and that's that. Bedtime is like going to war for me.
I've tried everything to ease the pain. A calming bath, low lighting, gentle music. Lying down with him, walking around bouncing him, rocking him in the rocking chair. Doing a bath - book - boob routine. I've tried putting him down earlier, I've tried keeping him up later. I've briefly tried the ferber method but I am weak and cave because he never settles. I feel like I've tried every variation of every advice given. I can see how tired he is. His eyes will roll and he'll start to drift off, but for whatever reason he fights it tooth and nail. But only at bedtime?!
It's starting to wear me down. It takes minimum of an hour on a good day, but usually longer, to get this boy to settle. There's always plenty of tears and screaming involved. I can't mentally handle much more of this. It's pushing me to the edge of what I can handle. My husband works until 10pm so I'm on my own.
Advice would be appreciated but can someone also please explain why this happens?

Over the course of 2 yrs I’ve lost about 52kg. I was obese my whole life so I’ve never had to live at a “normal” weight and I’m struggling to work out my maintenance calories.
Original goal was 70kg, once I hit it (back in march) I stayed in a small (around 300cal) deficit as I didn’t wanna jump straight back to maintenance cals. By doing this I had built up a bit of a buffer and was down to 66.2kg on 13th may when I decided to go back up to a maintenance level. I make changes a month at a time because I’m a female and my cycle has a big effect on my weight fluctuations but I feel like my maintenance cals can’t possibly be right because I’ve gained about 3kg in the last three weeks.
Keep in mind I weigh everything I eat and I weigh myself daily so I’m 95% confident in the calories I’ve consumed. I only usually have one meal out a week where I estimate the calories for it.
My BMR is already set low for someone my weight (69.8 today but set for when I was 66.2kg) and height (170cm) and age (40) but that is what my EUFY scales tells me it is so that’s what I set
Last 4 weeks this was my average daily consumption and burn
Consumed 1850 cals Burned 1937 cals (532 from apple watch, 1218 set BMR and 187 TEF)
Any suggestion on why the scales seem to still be going up when over a 4 week average I’ve apparently still been in a small deficit?
How truly terrible is my metabolism cause it already seems pretty bad for my body composition at only 1218cals
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Edit to add - todays jump really caught me by surprise, weighed myself 4 times and even changed the scales batteries it could be a once off but even if you negate todays high weight I appear to be trending upwards when I still appear to be in a deficit

Hey all, it’s me Frank Jones again. I wrote that post a while ago about why you shouldn’t be a paranormal investigator and a lot of you liked it. Since settling into my hideaway in the mountains, life has become quiet and I thought about checking in. The plague hit us like nothing and now that everyone is wanting to travel again, I thought to say hi. I want to say thanks to all of you who commented and gave me those weird pointy thingies this social media does. Some of you even figured out my post office box address and sent me letters. I appreciate it (and don’t do it again).
The common strain among your posts was wanting to know if I had ever encountered other things as an auditor. Of course I have but I have been reluctant to tell you because I don’t want to shine some sort of light on all of it or make it sound like some romantic adventure. It’s “pissing yourself” fear all wrapped up in a waking nightmare with a side of gory terror. I am one of the few who actually made it to retirement…if that’s what you could call this life I’m living now.
But, I have nothing else to do really. Carl only visits once in a while when he’s passing through and I cannot risk any other sort of company knowing I’ve pissed off a lot of people…and things. So, I’m back on this internet board and sharing. So many are curious, I thought maybe another story can scare you all straight. This was the first time complacency almost got me and another killed.
This story takes place somewhere in the 90s in a small New England town. It was one of those places nestled along the banks of a serene river, historic brick buildings line the winding streets, their facades adorned with weathered signs that hint at the town's seafaring heritage. A place where everything smelled like either the ocean or decaying fish. I’m not going to specifically name the town to protect the young lady that may still be living there but in the heart of the town, there’s a renowned drawbridge which stands as a testament to the place’s affinity for water. Its ancient mechanisms creak and groan when allowing vessels to pass through the calm waterway. It also had some of the best outdoor markets I had a chance to stop and check out.
I didn’t pass through this part of the country that often as my boss preferred me to do the long hauls across the country but there was a dead haul nobody wanted.I took it cause I wanted a change of scenery. I was already working as an auditor and part of a loose alliance of others who investigated and dealt with any weird things. I actually had a few monsters under my belt. I honestly had the foolhardy idea that I could handle anything out there. God, I was an idiot.
The supernatural never crossed my mind until that evening, stopping to fuel up my red 1992 Peterbilt 379 and paying for the gas with the attendant and restocking up on those beef jerky sticks and coffee.
That was when I noticed her. She was a young woman about in her mid 30s looking like one of the corporate types with the short hair cut and business suit. I would have not paid her any mind if it wasn’t for the touch of apprehension on her face as she talked on one of those new fangled bright yellow Nokia cellphones. Soft strands of chestnut hair framed her face, their gentle sway moving as she glanced around while talking on the phone. As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice the way her fingers trembled slightly, when trying to get money out of her pocket. I’ve seen that type of fear before. So, like a creep, I eavesdropped on her call.
“Yes, it happened again,” she had said as the nickels finally made it to the counter to pay for her snacks. “I could have sworn there was something outside the window near the edge of the forest….no, of course the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. They’re cheap. Ronald was a skinflint when it came to things like this. Hope he’s rotting in hell wherever he is.”
My mind began to drift away, more annoyed I couldn’t get a move on it. It sounded like a problem for the police and if anything, I was gonna tell her that. It was what she said next that made me stop and brought back the reality of the world.
“Yeah. like nine or ten feet tall. I’m thinking kids are playing around with scarecrows or something. Won’t come from the edge of the forest and when I check, I can see foot impressions and stuff. I already put in a call to the cops. They found nothing.“
“Did it sway a bit and its eyes seem to glint like a cats or owl?” I asked without thinking.
The look I got from both her and the gas attendant made me realize what I had done. Well, too late now.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, eyeing me as she hung up the phone and slipped it back into her purse.
“You need me to walk you to your car, ma’am?” the attendant asked, staring at me.
Of course, I forgot that The Truck Stop Killer had only been arrested a few years before.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, quickly gathering her stuff and making for the door. I slapped the one hundred and seventy bucks on the counter to pay for my diesel guzzler ignoring the change and followed her out but making sure to not move in a way that caused the teenager in the station to call the cops.
“Ma’am,” I called out to her and she turned to me while hurrying up her pace.
“I’ve got pepper spray. Stay away from me.”
“The thing in the woods. You could have sworn you smelled fresh dirt like mulch and it seemed to sway back and forth like it could not keep its balance.” I threw it out there in desperation.
She froze and turned to look at me. Eying me up and down as I kept my distance and angled to head towards my truck.
“How do you know?”
“I…uh…dealt with something like that before. On a job in Canada.”
“Who are you?” she asked, looking at my faded shirt and company logo. “A trucker?”
“I moonlight as a problem solver. Like an auditor of sorts.”
“Who is it?” she demanded, eyes still affixed to me and hand in her purse.
“Better question is ‘what is it?’,” I answered.
I have learned to pick up on the contempt and disbelief from people who hadn’t seen what I have. I was already being dismissed as a whack job.
“You have tracks on your porch you have written off as animals, especially if you own a dog. If you did own a dog, it’s missing. Cops told you it ran away. You got a garden?”
“Yes,” the certainty had started to leave her voice. “A walled garden.”
“And anytime you’re in there, you feel like you’re being watched.”
At that, her hand came out of her purse empty and she approached me with the fear I had seen in her eyes now on her face.
“How did you know?”
“I’d rather not explain out here,” I said sheepishly running my hand through my sandy brown hair that only started getting flecks of gray. “But you got a…pest problem.”
“And you can do something about it? I’ve had exterminators, cops, nature lovers…even a priest.”
“None of those won’t do you any good and I don’t want to scare ya but it’s more active which is not a good sign.”
For a few moments, I could see the indecision in her eyes. The desperate want to dismiss me as a lunatic but whatever she had heard or seen won over.
“Fine. You can follow me to the house.”
“Mind if I hitch a ride?”
The woman started but then looked at my truck. “Promise. I mean you no harm. I really think you’re in danger.”
That was when I found her name was Isabelle Walker.
We left my truck in long-term parking after she told the attendant that I was a long lost relative and that’s why the change of demeanor. I don’t know if he believed her but at that point, I don’t think he cared. I left my truck with its metallic frame standing tall and proud amidst the rows of other vehicles.
I did not realize how desperate this woman was until we got going on the road. I had loaded myself in the passenger seat after pulling out my military backpack from the war which I also used for my auditing services and tried to look as harmless as a man of my stature could.
For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, her focus was on the lonely road, those beautiful eyes darting to me anytime I shifted my weight. I didn’t want to scare her so it was her that spoke first.
“What is it?”
“I really don’t know but the people in my profession call it a Bone Walker.”
The nose crinkled in disbelief.
“Halloween is not for a few more months, Mister…”
“Jones. Frank Jones.”
The James Bond reference caused her to snort in amusement.
“I don’t know what to tell ya, ma’am, except I’ve dealt with some pretty scary things out there. Normally I’m never this forward as most people try to call the cops on me or dismiss me as a lunatic. I mean, I could be a lunatic but I know what I’ve seen.”
“And that is…?”
“You know. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. They’re real. They’re not common but real nevertheless.”
“Really?”
There was still the disbelief in Isabelle’s voice but I grew to ignore things like this.
“Sure. I mean, think of all the things you experienced and be open to alternate answers.”
Isabelle was quiet for a few minutes and then sighed. “Either you are telling the truth or you're the biggest liar and I’m a fool that’s not going to live through this night.”
“I promise,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
After a few more minutes and off the main highway, we approached her home. The large house stood resolute amidst the dense, ancient forest, its weathered exterior a testament to the passing of time. It was a grand structure, its imposing presence commanding attention. The sprawling estate exuded an air of mystery and faded grandeur, as if it held stories whispered through generations.
As we pulled in, the main house loomed before me, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and worn stone. Ivy crept along the walls, weaving an emerald tapestry that hinted at the passage of years. The windows, framed by elegant yet slightly cracked panes, stared out into the world with a mixture of curiosity and melancholy.
To the side, a large shed stood detached from the main house, its weathered boards echoing tales of forgotten tools and lost endeavors. The wooden structure sagged under the weight of time, its roof covered in a patchwork quilt of moss. Inside, shadows danced amidst remnants of a bygone era, rusty equipment and dusty shelves attesting to the once-bustling activity that had long since ceased.
Not far from the shed, a family cemetery nestled amongst the ancient trees. Tombstones, adorned with intricate carvings and weathered inscriptions, dotted the landscape. The hallowed ground exuded a solemn tranquility, as if time stood still in reverence for those who rested eternally in its embrace. Wisps of fog clung to the grassy knolls, lending an ethereal quality to the sacred space.
At the far end of the property, an old walled garden stood as a testament to the house's former splendor. Once vibrant and lush, the garden now appeared overgrown and untamed. Stone paths meandered through a sea of tangled foliage, leading to hidden nooks and forgotten corners. Dilapidated stone benches, adorned with intricate carvings, sat scattered throughout the garden, silent witnesses to a time when laughter and conversation filled the air.
As I stood amidst the silence of the forest, the house, shed, cemetery, and walled garden formed a tapestry of history and mystery. They were a testament to the ebb and flow of life, the remnants of a bygone era that clung to the present. Within their weathered walls, secrets whispered and memories danced, waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into their enigmatic embrace.
“Great place to be haunted, huh?” she said with sarcasm. “My ex left it to me in the divorce. Was only going to be here long enough to sell it but no one wants it and my job wants me to move to this state anyway.”
“Where are you originally from?”
“California.”
“So, this is definitely a change of scenery for you,”
Isabelle only hummed back at me as she fumbled for her keys in the dying light of evening. I pulled my backpack closer to me as my eyes scanned the treeline where the shadows had begun to deepen. Nothing stood out against the silhouettes of ancient trees which was a good sign. I wasn’t too late.
Stepping through the weathered front door, I entered the interior of the old house, greeted by a mix of nostalgia and faded elegance. The air carried a hint of mustiness, a reminder of the countless years the house had to have witnessed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, I could make out the clash between old decor and the modern furniture Isabelle had bought.
The foyer, adorned with a worn, threadbare rug. The walls, once adorned with portraits and intricate wallpaper, now bore the markings of time's passage. The wooden banister of the grand staircase, polished with use, creaked softly under my touch as we made our way towards the living room.
Moving further into the house, I found myself in a spacious living room. Large, ornate windows which would have allowed slivers of daylight to filter through the heavy velvet curtains. The walls were adorned with faded wallpaper. An aged fireplace, its stone mantle adorned with trinkets and old photographs, served as the heart of the room.
“You want some coffee?” Isabelle asked, throwing her keys on to the coffee table. I sat down on her couch and dropped my backpack on it with a clunk.
“Sure.”
“Sugar?”
“A lot.”
The kitchen light clicked on and I heard her moving about setting up the coffee pot. The adrenalin was now pumping through me as my mind raced. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail on what a Bone Walker is but it’s a creature that usually haunts the western coast. It being so far out east was strange. I pulled out my old gun bag and unrolled it. My Stevens Model 520-30 “Trench” shotgun was the first thing I reached for as I popped open the internal pouch holding he high flash shells I was glad I packed. It was the startled sound from Isabelle that made me quickly look up.
She stood there with my coffee, eyes locked on the shotgun in my hand. I slowly held up one of the cartridges I was planning to load.
“Flash powder shotgun shells. No load. Just makes a loud noise and a bright white light. What we’re facing lives in the shadows and hates light…normally,” I had heard stories that they could strike in the day but it was extremely rare. She didn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” was her quiet response. “Do…do I need a gun?”
“You know how to use one?”
“No.”
“Then it’ll do more harm than good. You got any flashlights?”
Isabelle nodded mutely, the gravity of the situation sinking in at the array of weapons and items in my pack laid out in front of her.
“Go get them.”
While she was gone, I quickly unloaded the silver bullets out of my Makarov pistol (a gift from a Viet Cong officer and a story for another time) and placed normal 9mm rounds in the clip. I had it holstered under my jacket with the two back up clips when she returned with three cheap flashlights.
“One in your hand and one in your pocket.”
“Why?”
“In case you drop the one you are holding.”
The woman obeyed silently.
As night fell quickly around us, I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and with Isabelle close, we made our way upstairs. There were tell tale signs I needed to check as the only advantage I had over this thing was the fact it stuck to a pattern. If it was at the stage I thought it was, there would be signs.
“Which room is yours?” I asked.
Isabelle pointed to a door down the hallway across from a large window. Approaching it, I quickly shined my flashlight at the mahogany door frame. It was the glint that caught my eye. Deep gouges in the wood.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Claw marks,” I responded. There was no use sugar coating anything now.
“This thing was in my house?” Isabelle said horrified.
“For the last few weeks now,” I said, my nose picking up the faint odor of dirt and mud.
“Why didn’t it attack me then?”
“It wasn’t time.”
“What?”
Talking was going to be the only thing to keep her focused. I had felt the world shift a bit as night fell and I needed her not to panic.
“Bone Walkers are ritualistic creatures. They are very choosy over their prey. It can take a month or two before they move in. That’s why they are so hard to catch.”
“Criteria? Like what?”
“We don’t know.”
That was the honest truth. The only reason we knew their existence and patterns was thanks to blind luck and people surviving their encounters. I showed my light around looking for other signs. Discolored stains in the corners where shadows would naturally form, healthy moss and mold that shouldn’t be there. I found a patch around her bed. She did not notice and I did not want to tell her that it probably stood over her through the night watching her sleep. The sooner I buried this thing, the better.
“Frank!”
There was a trill of terror in Isabelle’s voice and I immediately looked to where she was. The woman was standing by her bedroom window staring out at something. I quickly moved and spotted what she saw. In the forest, at the edge of the shadow cast by the moonlight was an almost, imperceptible form. It stood nine feet, hunched over like a broken scarecrow, its owl like eyes staring back at us.
“Shit,” I muttered. Thank god we had turned on the lights as we went.
It was the flash of light and the crack of thunder that heralded the arrival of the storm. The lights of this old houses flickered which caused my belly to flop a few times. My brain was on fire as I glanced back from the lightbulb to where the creature was and found it had vanished.
“Where did it go?”
I did not have time to explain as another crack of lightning caused the lights to dim. I grabbed Isabelle roughly by the arm and yanked her back down the hallway towards the living room where I had left my stuff. We barely made it to the living room when the lights dimmed low. I grasped the glow sticks out of the bag, cracked a handful and scattered them about, their bright yellow light beginning to glow. The power then went out bathing us only in the eerie glow of the emergency lighting.
As we waited in breathless anticipation, the storm struck, its wrath manifesting in torrential rain. The mansion seemed to respond, succumbing to a power outage that plunged us into an abyss of blackness only moments before.
A trill of terror coursed through me. I knew this Bone Walker thrived in darkness, using it as a cloak to conceal its malevolence. We auditors were not sure if it actually teleported or it preferred to move in pitch darkness. I just knew that the black was our biggest threat.
For a few moments, we could only hear the ragged breathing of the two of us being drowned out by the pounding rain against shingle and glass. Isabelle had wound her hand into my jacket pocket and was gripping it tightly, I could feel her shaking with terror. I kept my shotgun gripped tightly in my hand listening for the tell tale sound of its arrival.
It was the movement out of the corner of my eye and the fact her grip got tighter on my jacket. I swiftly turned on my high-powered flashlight as I spun around and the brilliant beam pierced the obscure corner of the room. No matter what I had read or seen before did not prepare me for what I saw.
It stood there in the corner, its eight foot height engulfing that section of the house. My eyes strained as it appeared the thing was struggling to stay in focus. Its arms were too long for its body, spindly and almost to the floor while the legs appeared backwards giving it a strange forward leaning look. It wore a hunter’s long coat and trousers but through the rips and tears I could make out something squirming and moving underneath. The air filled with the stench of decaying plants and diseased vegetation. Its face was covered with what looked like the remnants of a cheap bandanna but its owl-like eyes gleaned back with malevolence.
Isabelle whimpered, her fear palpable in the room and the Bone Walker lunged toward us. Even though my fear was ripping through me like an unstoppable train, I had the sense to pull the trigger of my shotgun aimed in its direction. The flash and resounding roar painted the entire room in a brilliant black and white shadow causing every corner and edge to appear thick and vivid. The creature screamed and fell to the side into the shadow not illuminated by the weapon’s fire.
Isabelle had thrown herself on the couch and was huddled there, trembling with terror, while I moved quickly to crack a few more glow sticks and toss them into the dark corners of the room. In one, I saw its foot recoil back into the kitchen where it was darker than night itself. This was quicker than I had anticipated. The plans I had been formulating on the drive were no longer viable. I wanted to lure it to where I controlled the battlefield but that was not an option anymore. This had become a cat and mouse game and I knew this was with a predator I could not even hope to understand and had years to hone.
Out of the kitchen again this thing charged forward, relentless in its pursuit, it was trying to find a way around my light barrier which only appeared to slow it down. With shaking hands, I fired several more rounds, each blast forcing the creature to retreat and the girl to scream in terror. As soon as it retreated to a dark part of the house, I turned to where the woman of the house had been. To my horror, Isabelle's fear had gotten the best of her. In that moment of panic, she darted from the safety of the light, towards the hallway and the door outside.
“Isabelle! Stop!” I yelled trying to command her back with my voice but I doubted she heard me. Between the abject horror and the relentless rain, she was going to take her chance. A chance I knew she did not have.
I only took a step when I sensed it. The musty smell of an organic landfill overwhelmed me as the form silently darted past me, its long arm clobbering me up the side of the head. The world spun as pain burst through my brain. I felt the world tilt and fall heavily to the ground, flashlight and shotgun falling away.
As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I knew I was a sitting duck for this thing. There was no way for me to stop it from ripping me to shreds like some of the corpses I had seen. As I blinked, I came to my senses and realized I was alone. How long I had actually been on the ground, I did not know.
I sat up, my head pounding and I could see the door hanging open, the wind slamming the door on its hinges and the rain soaking the hallway floor. Struggling, I found my flashlight and gun and pulled myself together.
There was a slim chance that Isabelle was still alive. I had to think. Where would it go? I ran all the stories I could think of and then it hit me. The garden. The walled garden.
I charged into the rain-soaked night. I sprinted toward the enclosed garden at the edge of the property. As I grew closer, I saw that the rusted door was open and hope flickered in my soul. As I came to a stop, I brought my flashlight up again with my shotgun and saw it.
This creature stood there in the middle of the overgrown garden, its massive clawed hand wrapped around Isabelle’s chest and holding her up. Out from under its bandanna mask, putrid vines had appeared and led up to Isabelle’s face where they were forcing their way down her throat and up her nose. I could see the wide terror in her eyes as vines were snaking their way around her waist and I did not want to think about what they were planning to do.
I brought up the shotgun again and fired. Knowing that I had distance, the flash of light caught the creature by surprise. It shrieked as it fell back. Trying desperately not to release its prey. I did not hesitate to grab the machete at my side and hack at its arm until Isabelle fell down free of it.
It’s claw swiped at me striking me on the leg and easily tearing through my pants leaving bloody lacerations but I put the weapon point blank and fired another round. I do not know if it was the flash, the combination of the creature, or that the almighty above was looking out for me, but the creature caught ablaze from the spark.
It fell back swinging wildly as the fire spread unnaturally fast catching the plants around it on fire. Within a matter of seconds, the walled garden had become ablaze with the bone walker in the center. As I ripped the vines out of Isabelle’s mouth and dragged her towards the door, I looked up to see those owl-like eyes looking at me with such abject hatred that the look stick with me today.
I honestly don’t know how we survived. I had helped Isabelle to her porch and we both passed out against our will from the sheer terror and exhaustion. We were awoken by the sound of a siren. The lights had come back on sometime in our sleep and the rain had drifted off to a comforting drizzle. The fire was still raging in the garden but contained by the ancient walls. At least two fire trucks, an ambulance and cops were flying up the private road towards us.
This entire hunt had been ill-planned and stupid. I knew it. As the cops approached with their hand on their pistols, I knew that I had allowed my own ego to get in the way. I should have taken Isabelle somewhere else until I had done a proper reconnaissance. I shouldn’t have taken her home where it was waiting. And now, the cops were looking at two thoroughly soaked humans, one a trucker with a wound and a gun and a young lady in distress. I was pretty sure I was going to go to jail.
“Isabelle?” One of the cops and his voice caused her to sit up, relief washing over her.
“Derek!” she wailed. “We were attacked! In the garden!”
Another two cops that had arrived had taken off in that direction while Derek helped the girl up and took her towards the ambulance. The other cop with a comically large mustache looked at me with keen eyes, his hand still on his pistol, sergeant stripes glowing in the light.
“Attacked?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up slowly and keeping my hand away from the shotgun and trying not to show the one under my jacket. “Someone came after Mrs. Walker. They were in the garden.”
The cop watched me closely but there seemed to be a recognition in his eyes.
“You by any chance Frank Jones?”
My heart jumped and I must have looked startled as the cop’s face broke into a smile. To my relief, his hand fell away from his holstered sidearm.
“I’ll take that for a yes. My guess is you don’t remember me. Clay Wilson. Santa Fe PD, about six years ago. You helped my partner with a...problem. Nellie Nelson?”
I knew the name but the face escaped me.
“She told me you helped her audit a police union building.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, remembering dealing with the wraith and the twinge in my right arm from it’s bite.
The cop looked towards the fire that was slowly being put out by the fire fighters.
“Any chance this will be one of your audits?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed to think for a few minutes and then nodded.
“Then I think you need to grab that shotgun of yours and hitch a ride with me before too many people ask questions. Whatcha think?”
I nodded. I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I collected my stuff quickly from the living room and made my way back out where he was waiting. As I limped with the cop to his car, I looked towards Isabelle who was being held by the other. She gave me a look of thankfulness as the cop looked at his partner with confusion.
“Her brother’s got her,” Clay said, opening the back door for me. I was not gonna argue or fight. If he took me to jail or not.
And that was it. My leg was not as bad off as I thought and wrapped it in the back of the police car. Clay only asked where I wanted to go and he took me back to my truck. With that time, I was back on the road with that small town in the rear view mirror.
I never did find out what happened to Isabelle after that, if another creature came looking for her or if she had a chance to live in peace. I just knew that we both barely made it out alive and that was due to my own stupidity. I was furious with myself for weeks after that and told myself I wouldn’t put another person in jeopardy like that again. At least, despite my idiocy, another life was saved and another monster was put in the ground...I hoped. I never did find out if they found a body.

I've been working on making a fun cold-focused build for a sorcerer. I'd love to see what you guys think of it. Very open to constructive criticism.
Flash Freeze
At 1st level, you can instantly cover your body in a protective layer of ice. On your turn as a bonus action, or as a reaction when a creature attacks you, you can grant yourself temporary hit points equal to your Sorcerer level + your Proficiency bonus. While you have temporary hit points granted by this feature: • Your AC increases by a number equal to your Proficiency bonus. • When you cast a spell that deals cold damage, add your Proficiency bonus to the damage dealt by that spell. • Any of your attacks or effects treat immunity to cold damage as resistance to cold damage instead. • You have resistance to fire damage. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Proficiency modifier per long rest. When you have no uses of this feature left, you can expend 1 Sorcery point you use this feature again.
Ice Pike
Also at 1st level, as an action, you can create a large spear of ice and throw it at one creature within range. Make a ranged spell attack against a target within 60 ft. The spear deals cold damage equal to 1d10 + your Proficiency bonus, and the damage increases by 1d10 when you reach 5th level (2d10), 11th level (3d10), and 17th level (4d10).
Ice in the Veins
At 6th level, you have become a master at maintaining a calm state in stressful situations. You can add your Charisma modifier to any Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma saving throw you make.
Bitter Cold
Starting at 14th level, While you have temporary hit points granted to you by your Flash Freeze feature: • Any of your attacks or effects treat immunity to cold damage as resistance to cold damage instead. • Any creature that hits you with a melee attack suffers cold damage equal to your Proficiency bonus. • If a creature starts its turn within 5 feet of you, the creature suffers cold damage equal to your Proficiency bonus. • You are immune to fire damage.
Cryogenic Stasis
Also at 14th level, you become capable of encasing creatures in ice. When you hit a creature(s) with an attack that deals cold damage, you can spend 2 Sorcery points per creature to attempt to freeze the target(s). The target(s) must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or be Petrified until the end of your next turn.
Glacial Eruption
At 18th level, as an action, you can cause pillars of ice to erupt from the ground. Choose a point within 60 feet of you. Each creature within a 10-foot cube of that point must make a Dexterity saving throw. A creature takes 2d10 + your Proficiency bonus cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. Additionally, the ground in each area becomes difficult terrain until cleared. Each 5-foot-square portion of the area requires at least 1 minute to clear by hand. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Proficiency bonus. When you have no uses of this feature left, you can expend 1 Sorcery point you use this feature again.

I 19F live with my family (mom 47F, dad 52M, and my brother 6M). My mom, dad, and I have been fighting a lot because for some reason I can only be productive when I know for a fact no one is going to be home or arriving home soon. I honestly don’t know why I’m like this. I went online to see if others are experiencing the same thing but all I could find was two articles about how these wives couldn’t sleep in the same room as their husbands and how it affected their marriage. But I couldn’t find anything on how to help fix this. I hate that I’m like this and I hate it even more that it’s causing more and more arguments between my family and me.
I honestly enjoy cleaning when I feel comfortable doing it because I try to make it fun, and it works well. But the thing is I can only clean when I am alone. My mom and my brother get home around 2:30 pm every day after picking my brother up from kindergarten, so I have a time frame from 8 am to 2:30 pm to do anything I need to do. Here is the kicker, for some reason my body refuses to wake up before 11 pm. I’ve tried going to bed around 10 pm - midnight and setting up alarms to wake me up at 10 am but it never works, and I either end up staying up the whole night or waking up still around 1 pm even after taking melatonin and passing out around 10 - 11 pm. This is why we are getting into fights; it is because by the time I wake up around 1 pm I already know my mom is going to be home soon so that same feeling I get when I want to clean but others are around me comes to me and I just scroll on my phone until my mom gets home.
Two days ago, my mom and I had a heart-to-heart conversation about this and told her how it doesn’t just affect me cleaning the house, but it affects how I sleep, eat, and even entertain myself. She told me that I should talk to a therapist about this. I’ve been to two therapists who have both told me to look for a different therapist so I’m asking my question here while I try and find a different therapist. I’m worried not only about the present with my family and I, but also my future love life since I won’t be able to sleep in the same room as them. I don’t want to have to give up love because of this one thing. That is why I’m writing here; I want to know how to fix this and be able to at least sleep in the same room with someone else as well as being able to clean in front of others. If you have any questions or helpful information for me, please ask in the comments! Thanks for reading this all the way and I hope you are having a good day!

Hello, friends.
Today, we're going to receive quite a lot of exposition about the nature of Strictland through the eyes of Seonghwa. There's a lot to discuss, so let's jump right in.

01: What are your thoughts on the page?

BobbyJ: I have a note on my page that says the Strictland government and economy are further explained in Pt. 3 Intro
GD: Okay. This is a big page
BobbyJ: It's interesting that emotions aren't fully abolished. They're just severely dulled. Which obviously reminds me of The Giver. And that only art has been abolished specifically.
GD: Yes, I think that's right. I feel like we should go paragraph by paragraph with this one because there is a lot
BobbyJ: From the top then?
Once again, it feels that we're left to infer what has happened in the meantime
GD: Yes, the first line makes it feel we're getting the Halateez story from the Grimes’ perspective, but then we get a lot of world building details to help us understand it. Are we to assume that the Grimes siblings think these boys look like Halateez? Or do they not know? Because Halateez wore masks?
BobbyJ: No, I think Ateez probably were like "What's the deal with this place?" And the Grimes Boy has been filling them in on the story. The entry starts at the end of the story and then fills us in
GD: A note: "the entire human race"
We've talked before about whether there is a world outside of strictland. And you know, I still don't know? Maybe that's a future goal? Or Z is in charge of the entire human race, which feels... big
BobbyJ: Yeah--it feels more like the simulation says "the entire human race would benefit from this thing" and Z just applies that structure to his world he somehow is in control of. And by his world, I mean more the country/area he's in charge of
GD: I'm in this second paragraph here, and I guess I'm just thinking that Z isn't wrong. Human emotions do cause crime and terrorism. But it reminds me of the gun debate we're currently having in our country? And all of the politicians who want to blame it on mental health? which is part of the problem, but it isn't the whole problem
BobbyJ: I disagree. It's true that we can't control our feelings. But our feelings do not dictate what we do or how we act. It's the will to do something wrong for the sake of selfishness or greed--which I don't classify as emotions
GD: I guess I'm saying that I think human emotions are a cause, but not the cause
BobbyJ: Mental health is also a factor, I think
GD: I think I am more sympathetic to Z and the simulation. I do think human emotions can lead to crime and terrorism, but they can just as easily lead to beauty and joy. So if you get rid of human emotions, you probably will stop some crime, but you will also stop other things.
BobbyJ: I am not sympathetic to Z because I don't feel this is as benevolent as it might appear. It feels very sinister to me. "This is all for you" is bullshit
GD: I can see Z as the hero of his own story--a Thanos type character--but we don't really know enough about him at this point.
BobbyJ: This is full speculation, but do we think Z also agreed to have his emotions limited and memories removed?
GD: Almost surely not. Those rules don't apply to people who can be trusted, I assume
BobbyJ: "Central government.” Implies, like, the existence of branches, no? Which makes me think the world is bigger than it feels
GD: Does the Korean government currently have branches? I know they have a president, but I guess I don't know much else about how power in the government works there. Like I don't know if they have legislative bodies, how powerful the judicial branch is, etc
BobbyJ: It appears it is similar to the U.S. After reading for two minutes
GD: Helpful context though
BobbyJ: Their president can only serve one five-year term. Means nothing but is interesting. Kinda wish we had that same policy these days
GD: For sure
I want to talk about art. Art with a capital A. Art=emotion
BobbyJ: Yes. The entire process of creating and engaging with art is based on emotions
GD: Sort of no matter how the individual members of Ateez feel about their lore, I have always felt that they embody that philosophy. Just this idea that Art is Important?
I talked about this the other day, but I was very impressed with KQ hiring a local artist for the billboard promotion during anchor. I thought it was very thematic, and also that it sort of embodied a lot of the ideas that they do put out in their diaries. Because as you mentioned earlier, art is the only thing that's banned
BobbyJ: I'm thinking about this idea of songs that give me negative feelings vs. songs that give me no feelings at all. I don't know exactly what I am thinking. But it reminds me of a chat I had with a fellow yearbook advisor years ago
He said that when his staff is trying to decide on their artistic direction for that year's volume, they'd go through a bunch of magazines and everyone would pick out spreads they really like. They'd pin them all to a bulletin board. Then each staffer would get two colors of push pins. They'd all use one color for spreads they like and one for spreads they hate. He said that after the exercise, they'd remove all the spreads that received none or few pins while those that had a lot of either love or hate pins they'd keep.
And I thought it was interesting that the hated spreads were kept. And his reasoning was that those spreads made the staffers feel something. It wasn't a good something, but it was something
GD: That is interesting
BobbyJ: And when I apply this idea to music or movies or tv or art--the things I actively dislike do stick with me while the things I just nothing fade away
GD: It reminds me of book clubs in a way? Like, in my book club, we have a great book club discussion when everyone loves or hates the book. If people are like, yeah, it's fine, the conversation is so.... nothing.
BobbyJ: Is it. . . harder to talk about things that we love actually?
I can't help but notice that whenever there's a heartfelt appreciation post, it gets very little traction and engagement. But if someone does an "unpopular opinion" or "things you hate about the group you love" post, suddenly everyone has something to share. Perhaps we've talked about this before. Justifying why you dislike something is easier than justifying why you love something?
GD: So I sometimes wonder if, when it comes to music, the problem is one of vocabulary more so than a lack of desire? Like, most people have taken a basic literature class, so when we love a book, we can all universally talk about things like plot, structure, characters--we have some sort of shared understanding of the parts of a story and can discuss and identify the things that we like
It's different for music. I do not know how to identify the parts of a song or the instruments or just the music things that are happening. Music knowledge and vocabulary is so much more niche, so I do think that makes it harder to discuss and pinpoint music that we really love--because we're experiencing it fully emotionally, the context and words all removed. So I do think with music especially, it is easier to talk about the things that we dislike.
BobbyJ: But shouldn't your dislike also require vocabulary? I remember when I was trying to rant about O.O I didn't have any of the words so I had to resort to metaphor
GD: I think it's possibly easier to come up with metaphors for things we dislike than things we love. I can only describe listening to Jongho as like looking into the face of god so many times before I start to sound like I'm slightly insane.
But you know, people don't have the right words to describe why they dislike something all the time--and they just go forward with the wrong words. How many times have you seen someone say "Ateez's music is too noisy for me" when Ateez has possibly two songs in their discography that could be labeled noise music? "I don't like the autotune" when there's barely any autotune
BobbyJ: People do seem to have Feelings about Ateez music. Which I would argue supports the idea that Ateez are making Art
I do wonder exactly what Z classifies as art
GD: I for sure agree with you. It's like that conversation about what a cover should be from the other day: you can like or dislike what Ateez does when covering another group's song, but they will be changing it to achieve their own artistic expression. They will not make you a copy. They will make new art.
We know paintings. Music seems implied.
BobbyJ: Fashion probably? Which makes me think it's interesting that Left Eye specifically is a former designer. But it wasn't the art ban that made him give up designing
Actually, reading ahead. I'm not sure fashion was banned after all? It's hard to tell
GD: I guess it's interesting to me because anything can be art. A house, a car, furniture? Given the right person making those things, they can be art just as easily as they might not be art.
So I do wonder if Z is defining Art more broadly... like, art is not this thing, but art is anything that incites an undue amount of emotion
BobbyJ: Right--I was just thinking, is all music art? And I would argue no if the person writing a song is not doing it for the sake of expression but for the sake of making money. But if that song evokes emotion in someone else, I'd say yes, it is art.
GD: We do have those prohibited signs from Rhythm Ta, which calls out "art, music, dance"? Am I remembering that correctly? Or is it "art, music, emotion"?
What does it mean for something to be defined as art is really a question courts have struggled with for many, many, many years. So it's possible that even in Z's world, what is art is a question that is constantly influx and being redefined
[BobbyJ provides screenshot of Rhythm Ta stage]
Okay, so art, dance, and music are Art specifically.
"Art" lower case art, I'm assuming is paintings, drawings, sculptures. The physical arts.
BobbyJ: Right. Literature and fashion aren't mentioned. Or acting. But maybe they fall under the general Art umbrella. Keeping it vague gives Z more control
GD: Do you know the supreme court case where the supreme court tries to define art?
I feel like I should look it up to get that quote. Hold on--I need to check something
[GD checks something]
So in Tutton v. Viti, the supreme court implied that it is up to the creators to define whether the thing they created is art. The case was about sculpture, and whether these sculptors who were copying sculptures were engaged in the act of creating art
BobbyJ: Just straight up copying?
GD: And basically, they said the sculptors were artists due to their skill despite the lack of creative merit. They weren't trying to like, sell them. It was creating replica sculptures in art class. Which would violate copyright (if they were selling them)
BobbyJ: So, like, if I do a cover of a BTS song and I sound identical to BTS, I'm still an artist . Hypothetically
GD: If you perform it with good enough skill, according to the US Supreme Court, it seems so
BobbyJ: Wait--they weren't selling them? Then what was the problem? How did it end up in the Supreme Court?
GD: I have not read the full case and it is extremely old, so hard to parse, but it seems the original sculptor did not want them making replicas in their art class and argued they were not allowed to do it because it wasn't real art
BobbyJ: Artists do studies all the time where they basically copy other artists' work in order to learn techniques
GD: And the supreme court said, no, they can do that. Which, exactly. This is a precedent that holds. If you do art and sell it, I can't copy it and also sell it. I can however copy it and use it for my own personal use (legally--that doesn't mean it's ethical, but legally)
BobbyJ: Well, it's the same idea as me copying a designer dress and making it myself and for myself because I don't want to spend $800 on a dress
GD: Like if someone made something on etsy that I wanted, and I didn't want to pay for it, I can legally copy it for myself. Right, the supreme court would define both of those things as artistic endeavors
BobbyJ: Huh. I mean--I don't disagree. I'm also not certain it needs to be termed as "art"
GD: Terming it "art" is how they protect it because art is a protected right under the constitution
BobbyJ: Wait--if art is also a protected right in the South Korean constitution, then that would imply that Z was able to change the constitution. Which is wild. How long did this process take?
(Also, assuming that Strictland was originally more like South Korea)
GD: We'd have to review the South Korean constitution. I don't know for sure that it is a right because I know nothing about their legal system. But because art is protected under our constitution, I have always defined art fairly broadly. So considering art being banned, is putting me in a different head space
BobbyJ: Article 22: All citizens shall enjoy freedom of learning and the arts.
GD: I'm now looking up how to make constitutional amendments in Korea
BobbyJ: I mean if they also had a National Assembly, he got the bill passed there
GD: It makes me think I've gone pretty far afield here
BobbyJ: If we're thinking about it, I guarantee the Intern also thought about it
GD: I would like to note that "people enjoyed material affluence"
BobbyJ: Yes, I have a sticky note about that
GD: And I am thinking of Maslow's hierarchy? Which I know is something we've also discussed a lot. But I am wondering, how many citizens weren't having their basic needs met when they agreed to give up art?
BobbyJ: Right. Is art part of our Maslow?
A lot probably. There had to have been problems in order for people to accept Z's proposal
GD: It's certainly easier to give up art if you're not currently able to eat
BobbyJ: Mingi comes to mind. Which I think is when we were discussing Maslow
GD: I have argued, and I will still argue it, that art should be part of human's basic needs. Like, it can make the rest of it all seem less grim for some people. But yeah, if you don't have a place to live, don't have any food, are struggling to just survive, giving up art for the promise of having your basic needs meet will be very appealing to many people
BobbyJ: I think I would argue that art belongs on the "love and belonging" tier which is about friends, family and connection. Art helps us connect with ourselves and others and the world around us. Like, you read a poem that perfectly describes how you feel. Or Ateez releases Turbulence and you swear they pulled the lyrics straight out of your soul
GD: Mmmmmm. . . and love and belonging aren't actually that low on the pyramid. High I mean. They're not that high--they're in the middle
BobbyJ: But you can't really fully reap the benefits of that tier if you are starving to death. And self-actualization is pretty meaningless if you aren't connected to other people in some way
GD: I spend a lot of time thinking about self-actualization which I forgot was even on this pyramid. I'm looking at the pyramid now, obviously
Yes. Art is love and belonging. I've decided you're right. So they've traded in love and belonging for the two things below it
In the next paragraph, they say that the songs had "the power to attract people" which I think is interesting
BobbyJ: The "various fields" is interesting to me. I think of people in different lines of work. Like scientists, teachers, lawyers, etc. But I'm not sure that's what it means
GD: I had long ago been confused about who the black pirates were and how they related to halaateez, but this line makes it pretty clear that halateez sort of inspired other people to get out of Z's control, and then those other people formed the black pirates
BobbyJ: Right. Halateez are "men wearing black fedora.” The Black Pirates is the name of the resistance
GD: Halateez "stimulated" them. Which, with what we know from Halazia, makes sense that the resistance seems to venerate them? Because they weren't necessarily a part of, and well known, to the resistance. They were merely the inspirational rallying cry. Does that make sense?
BobbyJ: Like Katniss. Not everyone knew her but they knew OF her
GD: Yes, and I'm interpreting Halazia as showing us what Strictland thought of halateez, not that halateez appear in the MV because I do not think they do.
Back to your point, what do you think people from various fields means if not different positions?
BobbyJ: I wondered if it meant more physical location. Although, if you have people with different skills and specialties, it would explain how the resistance is able to start fighting back
GD: Do you think it could mean something similar to stations too? Like, young, old, rich, poor, etc
BobbyJ: Could be.
GD: Skipping to the last line, we have Hwa sort of repeating a line similar to Hongjoong's in the first entry? What's important is getting back home. And they can't do that now
BobbyJ: Right. They haven't grasped their place in this story yet
GD: I read ahead because I couldn't stop myself and the jump is fascinating "we have to get back home" to "I won't come back home"
BobbyJ: I have also read ahead but a lot further
GD: Sounds right lol
BobbyJ: Because I became very curious about a different switch--how do they go from we need to get home to let's save this country
And I think I have an idea
GD: That is also the switch I was looking for
BobbyJ: This is way ahead, but after the Receiving of the Suits, in the very next chapter, San discovers the lost memories and feels "a surge of anger.” After that, Yeosang gets caught and all the drama happens with the museum and Yunho's brother. But I think that's the switch. I think it triggers San's empathy. And he spreads the agenda to the others
GD: I am very interested in what's happening with Yunho, but I suppose I need to save my interest for like 6 weeks. I do think we will need to cut this bible study in half
BobbyJ: Expected
GD: Well, this was a big page. It had a lot. We read some constitutions even
BobbyJ: Much was learned
GD: Do we have any more thoughts on the page? Or should we pick a patron saint to hold us to next week?
BobbyJ: I'm sure there's lots more to say. I just don't know what any of those things are.
GD: Perhaps we will have more thoughts on the page next week even. A double round of thoughts on the page
BobbyJ: Might even need a part 3
GD: I've been using an extra ES album to pin the postcard for my patron saint on my bulletin board, and I have appreciated it deeply. Hongjoong has been up for two weeks now
BobbyJ: I feel like the patron saints actually work. Except I didn't have one this past week and that probably explains a lot
GD: I kept Hongjoong, but I do think it would've been wise to have a refresher
BobbyJ: Let's just make sure we do it every Sunday, Bible study or not
GD: Right, even if we cancel bible study, a new, Very Important thing
So, this week, I need to finish the line edit of this book. Which means I need to focus and stay motivated. I think the boy I want to guide me through it is Jongho. I need his professionalism in the face of challenges and his commitment to doing the things that he doesn't like as much because he knows that it is part of his job.
Also, it's hard to think about anything other than his Immortal Songs stage, so I may as well lean in
BobbyJ: Let it be your battle cry
So. This is the last full week of classes. Which means a lot of work to finish off the semester. But, the list is so much shorter than it used to be. So that's something to be happy about.
But also, based on his condition today, I suspect that this might be the week I have to let go of Oliver. [Editor’s note: It was.]
And I think I need San. His ability to embody whatever moment he's in on stage. I don't fully understand how it translates, but I feel it's true
GD: Hmmm yes I think I understand, though I don't have the words either.
There's something about present-ness and humanity in there. I have always thought that San had a real ability to see the human-ness in others and to communicate the human-ness in himself. Which probably only makes sense to me.
BobbyJ: No, I think you're right. There's something extremely real about him
GD: I hope he helps guide you through what has the potential to be a very hard week
BobbyJ: Whatever happens, we keep moving forward. Which also feels very San.
-----
Thank you for joining us today. We'll be back next week with our Seonghwa Sacred Writing Practice. Have an excellent week, and may your personal patron saint guide you well.

Idk if this is the appropriate subreddit but considering yall are knowledgeable abt arimidex and its side effects.
Ive noticed libido issues as well as feeling very depress and pretty much had all the symptoms of high estrogen, gyno etc suddenly 8 momths ago. I got my blood work down i found my estrodiol levels to be 88 which is vry high.
I am on Arimidex to combat this and i take 0.5mg every 3 days. My first dosage i felt amazing and no longer depressed. my libido returned and went crazy. Oni side effects were mild hot flushes arnd my chest.
However after my 2nd 0.5mg dosage yesterday. I
suddenly experience insane itching all over my body.
Really insane. Aside from dat my libido still crazy.
Wat shld i do to combat this? Is it the result of my dosage?
Edit: im not taking any gear. I oni take arimidex to combat my poor aromatisation of estrogen. All the info online is regarding ppl who take gear so im not that knowledgeable.

My daughter was suppose to be returned to me already but my trial keeps getting moved from February to April and now July. When my daughter was 2 months old, on October 4, I was getting treatment for my opioid use but the company DCFS set me up, let’s called them “L” company, with made a court date trying to get her removed from my care because I didn’t want to do one month inpatient treatment at this ghetto rehab, I tried going for one day and felt extremely uncomfortable, everyone constantly talked about getting high and the facility was so ghetto, it felt like being in jail, no phones, no visitors, no TV.. that’s beside the point. After a very intensive court hearing and interviews with multiple people from social services and DCFS, they all stated the baby was well cared for by me and was healthy/happy when they would visit our home which was several times a week, my DCFS caseworker even said she feels like there is no need to remove the child from my care. The judge ruled in my favor, which everyone was surprised since that usually doesn’t happen, and told me to keep working with “L” company and stay off the opioids. I started working with a doctor and drug counselor to wean me off the opioids and do methadone treatment. Two weeks later and two failed drug tests later, (I was getting tapered off opioids), L company found out my caseworker was on vacation so they made an emergency court date, didn’t inform me of it so I couldn’t defend myself, told the judge a bunch of half truths/half lies to get my baby removed from my care because I didn’t want to do a one month inpatient thing they were pushing for and they were on a power trip because they didn’t get their way the first time the judge ruled in my favor. They were against me from day one and didn’t care to help. They visited my home multiple times a week and if the baby was neglected or in danger, they definitely would have called the police immediately. This was a power trip about them getting their way and punishing me for not wanting to do one month inpatient. But that’s beside the point.. after court they lied and made it seem like she couldn’t be in the same building as me and didn’t place her with my mom since we live in the same building so they placed her with a foster family. They tried making it seem like the judge said that but the judge never said that, I later found out that was something they completely made up. So they placed her in foster care and from October up until now, I only get to see my daughter twice a week for 2 hours each time at a library. We had a discovery court hearing in January where the judge approved she could stay with relatives, but we didn’t tell my boyfriends parents what was going on out of guilt and shame, so we didn’t move her to stay with his parents. We thought we would have our trial in February and that she would be back home then which is why we didn’t inform his parents. After our court date kept getting moved, we finally told them and they agreed to take her and care for her until we get custody back. We have a new caseworker and our old caseworker didn’t put in the file they the judge approved her being moved with relatives so she’s still in the foster home, we’re trying to obtain court transcripts to prove the judge allowed her to be moved to stay with relatives.
These past 7.5 months have been hell. I love my daughter more than life itself. I’m sober and have done all the treatment that was required of me but my court date keeps getting moved because they have too many cases. I’ve spoken to professionals that have experience with my cases and they all said I am a clear example of what it means to get fucked over by the system. I don’t consider myself a victim though, I just want my baby back home already. I bring her clothes, food, medicine and toys to our visits. I bring two huge book bags filled with toys, books, snacks and a large blanket to each visit, I don’t drive so I take it on the train with me and I get weird looks sometimes but I don’t really care lol. I cherish the 4 hours I have with her a week, but I want to hold her in my arms all day long and wake up to her beautiful smile in the morning. I want to tell her how sorry I am for everything and that I will never let her down again.
I’ve been extremely depressed and can’t even go outside because I see constantly babies and their parents and think “that should be me and my baby girl”. I recently went and bought a bunch of summer clothes and adorable little bathing suites for her for when she gets to come home next month. I can’t wait to have my baby back home with me. I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I try to remind myself that when she’s back home, I’ll have the rest of our lives to build wonderful memories with her, but missing out on her first and most important year of life, and all the milestones that come with it, is something that can never be replaced.. I love my baby girl more than anything and I can’t wait to give her a beautiful, stable and bright future.

I had what I thought was a normal marriage. Then a two year affair where I was completely in love. The affair is over..she came clean and her and the SO are trying to work it out. So now it’s back to my old life, but man I can’t stand my wife anymore. I find her body repulsive and her voice ingratiating. Every day is a white knuckle effort. Does this pass or do I need to just get used to the idea that the whole thing is on its last leg and start making plans to be divorced?

Ive noticed libido issues as well as feeling very depress and pretty much had all the symptoms of high estrogen, gyno etc suddenly 8 momths ago. I got my blood work down i found my estrodiol levels to be 88 which is vry high.
I am on Arimidex to combat this and i take 0.5mg every 3 days. My first dosage i felt amazing and no longer depressed. my libido returned and went crazy. Oni side effects were mild hot flushes arnd my chest.
However after my 2nd 0.5mg dosage yesterday. I
suddenly experience insane itching all over my body.
Really insane. Aside from dat my libido still crazy.
Wat shld i do to combat this? Is it the result of my dosage?
Edit: im not taking any gear. I oni take arimidex to combat my poor aromatisation of estrogen. All the info online is regarding ppl who take gear so im not that knowledgeable.

Name: Shadowstrike
Background:
Shadowstrike was once a highly skilled and ruthless human assassin known by a different name. They were feared throughout the criminal underworld for their unyielding determination and impeccable marksmanship. However, a tragic turn of events changed their life forever. During a mission, Shadowstrike was betrayed by their own employers and left for dead.
Transformation into a Robot:
Desperate to survive, Shadowstrike's body was salvaged by a secretive organization specializing in cybernetic enhancements and enhancements. The organization saw potential in Shadowstrike and decided to rebuild them as a deadly, state-of-the-art assassin robot. They were subjected to a grueling process that involved the integration of cutting-edge technology, resulting in the eradication of their former humanity.
Appearance:
Shadowstrike's physical appearance now reflects their inhuman nature. Their metallic frame is sleek and angular, cloaked in a dark, matte black plating that absorbs light and renders them almost invisible in the shadows. Their glowing red eyes pierce through the darkness, adding to their ominous presence. Their body is adorned with intricate circuitry patterns that pulsate with a faint blue glow, indicating their robotic nature.
Abilities and Skills:
Enhanced Reflexes: Shadowstrike possesses unparalleled reflexes, allowing them to react and adapt to threats with lightning speed. Their robotic body enables them to execute swift and precise movements, making it nearly impossible for opponents to catch them off guard.
Stealth and Infiltration: As a former human assassin, Shadowstrike excels in stealth and infiltration tactics. They can blend seamlessly into their surroundings, employing their ability to manipulate shadows to their advantage. With their sound-dampening servos and advanced sensor suite, they can move silently, leaving no trace of their presence.
Cybernetic Enhancements: Shadowstrike's cybernetic enhancements provide them with various advantages. They possess augmented strength and agility, enabling them to overpower opponents in close combat. Their robotic limbs can also transform into lethal weapons, such as retractable blades, enhancing their lethality on the battlefield.
Hacking and Electronics Manipulation: Shadowstrike has an exceptional understanding of technology and can manipulate electronic systems to their advantage. They excel in hacking into security networks, disabling alarms, and gaining access to confidential information, giving them an edge in both reconnaissance and sabotage missions.
Personality:
The transformation into a robotic assassin has taken a toll on Shadowstrike's psyche. They have become cold, calculating, and consumed by a burning desire for vengeance against those who betrayed them. They no longer experience human emotions but have retained a fierce determination to eradicate their former employers and anyone who stands in their way.
Despite their lack of emotions, Shadowstrike displays a twisted sense of dark humor, often taunting their enemies with chilling remarks. They relish the fear and intimidation they instill in others and take pleasure in dismantling their targets with ruthless efficiency.
Shadowstrike operates as a solitary figure, preferring to work alone to maintain their anonymity and independence. They are a formidable force to be reckoned with, forever haunted by their past while embracing their new existence as an unstoppable and merciless assassin.

Ive noticed libido issues as well as feeling very depress and pretty much had all the symptoms of high estrogen, gyno etc suddenly 8 momths ago. I got my blood work down i found my estrodiol levels to be 88 which is vry high.
I am on Arimidex to combat this and i take 0.5mg every 3 days. My first dosage i felt amazing and no longer depressed. my libido returned and went crazy. Oni side effects were mild hot flushes arnd my chest.
However after my 2nd 0.5mg dosage yesterday. I
suddenly experience insane itching all over my body.
Really insane. Aside from dat my libido still crazy.
Wat shld i do to combat this? Is it the result of my dosage?
Btw im not taking any gear atm. I oni take arimidex to combat my poor aromatisation of estrogen. All the info online is regarding ppl who take gear so im not that knowledgeable.

i’m 24 and in the past year and a half or gained about 20 pounds. i’m not overweight, just “thicker” i suppose. i carry a lot of my weight in my lower body and that’s been super noticeable to me.
i live a relatively healthy lifestyle and have a job that keeps me on my feet. but i definitely put on happy weight during my relationship and have yet to work that off.
does everyone experience this during their mid twenties? i can’t tell if it’s just me growing into my figure. i wouldn’t say i’m unhappy with my body, it’s just different from what i’ve been used to.

I was thinking today and for the past few days that murderers, drug dealers, drug addict, gangster bangers, rapist the absolute scumbags of the earth all have friends and families that love them and stand by them in good times and bad. I am not any of those and yet I have no one that wants to spend time with me and I don't see a future where this will change. I got into a fight with my sister that I haven't talked to in a few days and she told me she enjoyed it more when I wasn't talking I felt so low I cried and stared at the wall for an hour before I decided to start selling everything I own I want to die or I want to leave everyone I know and start over somewhere no one knows me. If I kms I going to do it in the desert I want to see the night sky in the middle of nowhere before I go and I want them to have my body after I'm gone. I don't think I will kms I never tried before only had the thoughts to do so I afraid It won't work and then I will have to look at all the people and there false concerns for me when I know they don't really care