Kesling funeral home obituaries
Ask a Funeral Director
2011.09.01 21:02 OKfuneraldirector Ask a Funeral Director
Welcome to AskFuneralDirectors! A place to ask questions or post information about Funerals, Embalming, Cemeteries, Cremation, or anything in the Death Care Industry. Please check out our FAQs and helpful information below...
2014.02.13 22:31 artisurn Cremation: Discussion & Cremation
Respectful discussion on the topic of cremation for your loved ones and pets.
2023.06.03 23:00 AutoModerator What is #VALZUBIRIAGENDA and some ideas and insights
The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:
- We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
- We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
- We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.
We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs. Valzubiriagenda NFTs NFTs only came about a few years ago.
But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda
, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez,
and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs. Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them. Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.
I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years. BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books. I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche. Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited). PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time.
The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters,
which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later? No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda
even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies. What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect,"
was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome
coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda."
I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez
) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on. Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda
, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker
. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical.
Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers,"
which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014"
and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett,
about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett
has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett,
about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM
, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda
(co-authored by artist Silverio Perez,
a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs. Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be. The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum. Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art. We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices.
We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you. Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical
onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors. When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation. Negative:
When trouble comes, they cascade to even more. Positive:
When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.
JOIN THIS GROUP
If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist
submitted by AutoModerator
to valzubiriagenda [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 22:35 d8sconz The life and times of John Marmon, the Hokianga Pakeha Maori - Chapter 6
The first land we sighted after leaving Sydney was the Three Kings, New Zealand. We had run before a fair wind up to this time, and had come into what was regarded as a good whaling ground. Now every eye was scanning the horizon, since a bottle of grog was promised to the man who should first sight a whale. I had been on the port watch since I came on board under Mr Hawkins, the chief mate, and one evening, just as our watch below was ending, I went aloft to see the sun set. Against the broad, red horizon I saw some dark objects spouting and tumbling. In an instant I had shouted “Whales ho!” to claim the bottle of grog. “Where away?” was the skipper's question. “On the lee bow, sir.” For an instant he scanned the spot with his glass, an anxious moment for me lest I should have mistaken a shoal of porpoises for a school of whales, and not only lose my prize but expose myself to the ridicule of my fellow sailors. “Right you are, it's whales, sure enough; you have won your grog, lad.”
We had no time to lose; the night would soon be on us, and our chance would be lost. Down went the boat with Ned Farne, our harpooner, in the bows ready to launch his weapons when opportunity offered. On came the school, tumbling and blowing, throwing jets of water ten or fifteen feet into the air, causing a very grand yet terrible scene. At length they got almost within range; the boys were pulling like mad to keep up with the pace the whales were swimming at. We saw Ned rise up in the bows, poise his arm back for an instant, then launch the harpoon straight for the huge back of the fish that was nearest to him. The aim was true, the missile was buried over the barb in the soft blubber beneath the outer skin, and away went the whale dragging the harpoon rope after it so rapidly that they had to pour water upon the side of the boat to prevent it from igniting, through the violent friction. Again the huge creature rose to breathe, and another harpoon was driven into it, causing it once more to rush away through the water at lightning speed. Darkness fell over the scene before they had killed it, and the boat remained by the carcase all night to prevent it sinking. When morning came it was a busy scene on board, preparing to cut it in and try it out. At length the task was completed, and five large sacks of oil were secured; not a large yield certainly, but the foretaste of better things, we hoped. We cruised over the same ground for several days, but saw no more whales, accordingly we stretched across to Curtis' Island, about 500 miles to the north-east, where in about a month we got five or six more, some of them giving very fair yields of oil. After this we ran down upon Norfolk Island, where we fell in with the Mercury, schooner, Captain Barnet, also on a whaling cruise from Tasmania. From her we shipped two additional hands, and then made for Moreton Bay, on the coast of Queensland. Here not a solitary fish was to be seen, therefore we ran back for our old ground off Curtis' Island. Scarcely had we arrived when we fell in with a heavy gale from the north-east, raging for twenty days, in which we had to heave to, not being able to show a rag of sail. On the 21st day, when the wind began to lull, we found ourselves off the Three Kings, a drift of more than 500 miles. We had shipped such heavy seas, and the force of the storm had been so great, that our tryworks had been carried away, and three of our boats stove in. Therefore we bore up for the Bay of Islands, where we arrived on the 10th of April, 1811, anchoring as before off Te Puna. We were the only vessel in the bay at the time, though others entered during our stay.
The same day that we reached our anchorage a chief named Taua Makia came aboard to take care of us and watch over our interests, lest we should be swindled in trade or otherwise maltreated. This considerate proceeding was not disinterested, but the ‘consideration’ expected was not large. The Skipper ordered a boat to go ashore and bring a load of gravel to serve as shot for our guns since this had been omitted in the ship's supplies, and the natives were not to be trusted, even though we had a protector. The news had spread like wild-fire that a ship was at anchor in the bay, and already scores of canoes were being launched to pay a visit to the pakeha, but we loaded our guns, and pointing them astern, ordered all the visitors to keep back, which, after a little demur and grumbling they did. Nevertheless, all throughout our stay, they never desisted in the attempt to get on board, considering it a gross breach of hospitality on our part to deny them the privilege. As our example was imitated by Captain Walker, of the Endeavour brig, that came in a few days after us, having on board two missionaries for Tahiti - Messrs Davidson and Williams - the natives concluded that in us they had got a very bad and uncivil customer to deal with.
Meantime we had commenced work upon the repairs of the vessel. Nearly all our spars had been carried away, together with our jibboom and some of the bulwarks; we had lost every boat but one, and small leaks were demanding attention, We bad two sawyers on board, and as Captain Walker had three whom he lent us for the time, our skipper thought it best to put the ship thoroughly to rights here, in place of putting back to Sydney. Accordingly, the sawyers went ashore, rigged up the pits, and commenced work vigorously. But the Maoris did not exactly see the force of this. They imagined that we were concocting some diabolic scheme of destruction against them in making such extensive preparations, which they considered as in some way identified with our worship. They pulled down the works and threatened to kill the sawyers if they attempted to resume operations. But a volley from the vessels soon scattered them, and a strong guard being picked from the crews of both ships, they were hereafter permitted to labour uninterruptedly. During this time, I had considerable liberty granted to me to go ashore, or to go fishing with Taua Makia. The first time I availed myself of the former privilege, I received as great a scare as ever I had in my life. Three of us had been wandering about in a bit of bush near the Keri-Keri River, trying to find our way back to the saw-pits, when suddenly we issued upon a cleared space, in which were a few houses and patches of cultivation. Before the entrance to one of the whares stood a band of females crowned with chaplets of green leaves, and wringing their hands. One of these, an elderly woman, who seemed to act as chief mourner upon the occasion, and had a chaplet of dog's hair round her temples, different from the others, advanced in front and began to throw her arms about, raising her head and eyes to heaven. Whilst doing this, in a very plaintive quavering tone, she commenced a wailing song, in which she was joined by her companions. I was afterwards initiated into this, and now give a specimen of a funeral lament: -
Taku hei he piripiri (my fragrant bundle the piripiri) Taku hei moki-moki (my fragrant bundle the mokimoki) Taku hei tawiri (my fragrant bundle the tawiri) Taku kati taramea (my sweet juice of the taraniea) Te hei o te pounamu (the companion of the greenstone) I haramai ai - e (is gone - alas, upon) I runga te angai-ia-ana (the angai-e-).
It was the tangi, or wail for the dead. But at this period I knew nothing of Maori customs or ceremonies, and my very hair began to rise with horror as I thought perhaps they might be celebrating some human sacrifices. Our fear kept us quiet. In the thick bush we lay watching the scene, overshadowed by the gloom of a gigantic kauri-tree, and wishing ourselves anywhere but in our present predicament. When the sorrowful song was ended, and the females had entered the whare, we noiselessly strove to retrace our steps, and chance favouring us, we came out a mile or two from where the sawyers were at work. As I afterwards discovered, no duty is so sacred or so obligatory as the interment of the dead, no trouble being considered too great, no expense too excessive, no lamentation too extreme to testify to the respect in which the deceased was held on earth, and to raise him in the estimation of the mysterious spirits to whom he had gone. Taua Makia sometimes went with us fishing to induce the prey to come upon hooks by the constant chanting of Karakias or incantations, supposed to have a very potent influence over the finny tribe. I cannot say we were ever very successful when he was with us, since the noise he made and the fishing gear he would insist upon employing were neither conducive to lure the fish to our bait, nor to hold them when they were hooked. But this, of course, may have been merely an ignorant pakeha's prejudice, since many a lusty kahawai or schnapper, have I caught with a hook made from a dead man's bone. Don't wince, reader; better, is it not, to be put to some use after death, than to feed a legion of hungry worms.
We began to mix a little with the natives when ashore, and I grew more familiarised with their ways. We attended their baptisms, He Tohi, and gave presents to the infant, that it never enjoyed; we consulted the Niu, or divining sticks, whether we should reach home in safety; we were present at their marriage tauas, when the bride was carried off by main force sometimes minus her clothing, finally we were guests at their hakaris, or feasts, and could vouch for the excellence of Maori culinary skill. But we shall have enough of these in the course of the narrative, the reader shall eat and drink to his heart's content but at present we must keep to the thread of our story.
In a fortnight the sawyers had finished their work ashore, a week more completed the repairs aboard, and whatever little trade we had carried on completed, the skipper thought of standing out to sea again. In some mysterious way or other, I had offended the old bosun of our ship, and he had persecuted me with most relentless malice. Nothing I could do was right, the rope's end was my daily sauce, and complaints about my laziness were continually being carried to the captain. At length one day, irritated by their constant occurrence, he said when another of my misdeeds was laid before him, “String him up then, and give him a dozen.” This was just what the bosun wanted; and in a trice he strung me up to the mast, and a good round dozen I received, being only released when nearly fainting with pain and shame. He had got the best of it just now; my day of retribution came again. Now, this method of instructing me in navigation was by no means to my taste, and as two of our men had absconded the day previous, concealed, as was thought, in the bush, I imagined I could emulate their example, perhaps, to join them. At least, I should first go to the Endeavour, as she lay nearer the shore, if not, the bush it must be. Therefore, waiting my opportunity, about 3 o'clock one morning I slipped overboard and swam noiselessly to the companion ship. As I came alongside puffing and blowing, thoroughly exhausted with the long swim, and almost inclined to give up the business, the carpenter, who was acting as bosuns mate in the Endeavour for the time, saw me, and flung me a rope, by which I climbed on deck. I told him my story, and as he was a decent sort of a fellow, he was slipping me quietly along the deck to the foc'sle, when the second mate saw us and demanded to know what I wanted there. With my usual readiness, I invented a tale of a morning swim and exhaustion, but the story would not hold water, and the captain was informed of my arrival. As soon as morning broke he sent over to the Harwich, telling Captain Simmons that I was on board his vessel, and about nine our skipper came over with two men to take me back. Reluctantly enough I went, as I knew a flogging was in store for me, but to my surprise the captain only took me into his cabin and rated me soundly for my foolhardiness in risking my life thus, telling me I escaped a flogging by his having discovered many of the bosuns stories to be untrue. My condition was now better on board, as I was taken aft, and kept under the captain's own eye. My enemy, the bosun, was speechless with rage, yet he was powerless now to do me harm.
About a week after this the Endeavour sailed, Captain Walker having come on board the Harwich and taken a very friendly farewell of our skipper, and a fortnight afterwards we followed suit, going back to our old cruising ground at the Three Kings. The weather was very uncertain and squally, so that we did not see any whales; therefore we stretched over to Norfolk Island, and speedily were busy at work.
The first day we arrived we secured three whales, which we cut in and tried out, the third day two more, and the fifth day another. Then our luck seemed to change, and not a solitary fish could we see for an entire month. We tried all our former grounds, Curtis' Island, Moreton Bay, Three Kings, to no purpose, only when off the East Cape did we catch sight of a small whale, which we secured but only got one barrel of oil from it. The weather now began to be very stormy; winter was at its depth, and the air was piercingly cold. Therefore Captain Simmons concluded to break the cruise, to run for Sydney, discharge his cargo of oil, and commence anew. Another consideration, also, was that several of the men were very ill with scurvy and dysentry - in fact, the crew was only at half at its usual complement, therefore the cry was “about ship,” and “Sydney ho!”
It was whilst running home before a fine fresh breeze, that one night we were knocked up by Mr Hawkins singing out, “Ship on fire on the weather bow.” The shock was electrical. Everyone bundled out of their hammocks and rushed on deck. There on the horizon was a grand and terrible spectacle. A large ship was burning from stem to stern, lighting up the gloom of the winter's night for miles around, throwing a deep lucid glare over the inky ocean. The flames were bursting up the hatches, were licking the masts and spars, were peeping out in little forked tongues through the portholes. The captain ordered lights to be burned at the masthead, blank charges to be fired from the guns every minute, and the jolly-boat to be manned and to go in search of survivors. In an hour our efforts were rewarded by three boat-loads of fear-stricken men boarding us and asking reception. They informed us that the burning ship was the “Lady Lucy” from Sydney to London, that she had caught fire when a week out, from a burning candle falling into an oil cask, and that over 50 lives had already been lost through the capsizing of two of their boats. Captain Simmons made them welcome, and a few days after we reached Sydney, where they were taken in hand by the Government and forwarded home by the next vessel. Thus ended my voyage in the Harwich, perhaps the most pleasant of all my trips.
submitted by d8sconz
to ConservativeKiwi [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 22:17 No_Impression7719 Ended a long-term friendship of 7 years with my former best-friend because his girlfriend sucks
Hi all, long time lurker here but I wanted to get some unbiased opinions on this. This story is long. Sorry in advance.
Six months ago, I (27M) ended a friendship with a my long-time best friend (28M) and of 7 years after a fairly explosive fight about the woman he is dating (33/34F). The whole thing took me by surprise. We currently have a large tight knit friend group of people across a variety of major cities and we all try to hang out when we can. However, some of my friends in this group have been unhappy with me for cutting of ties with this person.
For context, This friend was my college roommate, fraternity brother, and the most consistent source of emotional support and guidance throughout my early-twenties. Throughout college, I felt that we had a unique and supportive friendship. He taught me how to be believe in myself, stand-up for myself, take care of myself better, and brought a lot of light into my life as a friend. We were both full-scholarship students at a fancy-pants highly ranked college that is know for being elitist and stuck-up. Looking back, I think one of the things that made us such tight friends is that we didn't fit in all too well at that school. Both of us had pretty difficult lives before college and neither of us had any money. He was essentially an orphan and I was/am from a low-income single parent household. However, despite these circumstances, I felt like we both inspired each other to become more well-rounded and well-adjusted people. A central theme of our friendship was trying to figure out how to live a good life, solve interesting problems, make the world a better place, and to go on adventures with good friends.
During our early twenties/in college I feel like I did everything I could to be the best friend possible. Since he didn't have a stable father figure, I tried my best to be a loving brother. I was there to support him for every major test or every time a girl broke his heart in college. I knew that finding a group of friends and a community was important for him, so I advocated for him to join my fraternity. While my fraternity was voting on final round of rush, I was working on a major project with some classmates and someone texted me that my friend didn't get enough votes to be offered a bid to join. Immediately, I told my partners that I had to go for an emergency and ran to where the voting was taking place. I basically made a 2-3 minute long speech about how my friend was one of the best people I've ever known and convinced everyone to revote him into the group. Additionally, when he had to take a year off from college because a close member of his family passed a way, I spent almost every weekend with him for emotional support, helped him navigate the dark and uncomfortable family drama around the situation, and was the only friend who went to this family member's funeral with him for support. I even helped him with the little things, like teaching him how to tie a tie and find his own sense of style.
However, towards the end of college and after graduating, my life got difficult and dark. At the end of my senior year, two close relatives of mine passed away within two weeks of each other and I became extremely depressed. After graduation, I left my home state for a job that offered me a significant amount of money. Though my plan was to go to grad school, I wanted to take some time to make money and help my younger sister afford college - she didn't get any significant scholarships. However, the job I worked at was terrible. I was being abused almost every since day by my boss and the company I worked for was extremely unethical. After starting this job, I learned that the average hire only lasts about 6-8 months and that having a breakdown from working there was extremely common. Working here took a huge toll on my mental health and after 9 months, I quit to return home before I broke down like many of my co-workers. I thought things would be better when I went back home but some of my family members were going through it at the time and became abusive as well. Though my family was never abusive towards me growing up, for some reason they chose to be abusive when I came back. Chairs were thrown at me and I never had a moment of rest. I also had a grandmother who was living off food stamps and nobody was taking good care of her. So I had to continuously try and get her groceries while working 60-70 hrs/wk on a construction job. It was a bad time.
During all of this, I felt that my friend was being extremely immature and selfish. He kept yelling at me and criticizing me for not hanging out enough with him and not partying with him enough. Even after explaining my situation, he didn't offer too much support and expressed frustration that I wouldn't help him meet girls at clubs or get laid. He's always had a deep desire to find love but has traditionally had issues with female rejection. One night, I agreed to go out clubbing with him, but I remember explicitly stating that I was not in the mental space to hit on girls, wingman, or to hook-up. I was just down to drink, dance, and have a good time. Despite this, at the club he got extremely frustrated with me when I wouldn't start any conversations with groups of girls. When we got home he literally starting screaming in his bed about how he wished someone "would show him the steps" on how to meet women. Though this was clearly not a high point in our relationship together, I felt that he was probably just going through something and let it go. After a few months, even more negative things happened in my life and eventually had a mental breakdown. I definitely was not acting normally or myself for 3-4 months afterwards either. Despite this, my friend insisted that I party with him and a group of other people one night. However, when we were ready to go out, I overheard him loudly making laughing at me and making fun of my behind my back about how "I had serious mental problems, totally lost it. etc." I was shocked because he definitely knew about all that I was going through. After this, I stopped reaching out to him and to distance myself. Part of me didn't trust him anymore but also I wanted to see if he'd put in effort to keep our relationship strong.
Fast forward a few years, and we were still friends but not as close as before. I partially attributed this to me moving around different states for work and also for finally getting into a grad school far away from everyone. During this time we both ended up dating women which we both considered to be long-term partners. Initially he starting dating this girl for a couple of months, and then something terrible happened in his life - his last surviving family member died. After telling her he needed to put their relationship on pause and leave town to wrap up family affairs. She blew up at him while he was out of town, about how he "led her on" and wasted her time. For context, she made it clear that she wanted to get married and have kids after 2-3 years of dating.For some reason, he got back together with her and stayed with her for a few years, but he expressed some concerns about her to me. He told me that she didn't really seem interested in engaging with him on an intellectual level (e.g., reading books with each other, talking about work) and also expected him to pay for all of their dates and meals (which were pretty expensive) because he has a well-paying job. He also expressed worry that she'd wouldn't be interested in respecting or having a relationship with any of our other friends because of her age. Because she was 31 at the start of their relationship she felt that a lot people in our friend group of mid-twenty somethings "wouldn't be mature enough" for her.
Despite telling him that these were all big red flags, he continued dating her. Because I was busy working and trying to make money for my family I never got a chance to hang out with her. But as predicted, as all of our close friends eventually met her over the years - she was pretty disrespectful. Though she never fought or argued with anyone, she'd either ignore people or be passive aggressive. She also started to negatively influence him. After a member of our friend group (who previously has always been kind and caring) had a public freakout and yelled at his girlfriend because he was in a bad mental state, I called him to talk about how we could support our friend and expressed concerns that a marijuana addiction might be contributing to his issues. Instead of talking about the issue he said that our friend was "spoiled", "immature", and said that his girlfriend "weak woman".
Eventually, my partner and I met this girl during my college reunion and we felt that she was pretty awful. My friend allowed my girlfriend and I to stay at his appartment to save money for the trip. Before the actual reunion we all agreed to hang out. My girlfriend arrived in town a day before me and spent time with both of them before I did. Though I wasn't there, my girlfriend told me that this woman threw a napkin at a waiter during dinner. Apparently, she also got sleepy at around 9pm while my friend was showing my partner around the apt. Instead of waiting respectfully or finding a place to rest, she passive aggressively pretended to fall asleep in the common room of the apt and pretended to snore. Then after a few minutes she started yelling that she called an Uber for herself to go back to her place, slammed a door in my friend's face, and left the building - leaving him to chase after her.
I met her the next day during a double date, and I didn't get the best impression. I tried to be nonjudgemental but it was pretty hard to hold a conversation with her. When I asked about her interests, she could only really talk about how she like to drink/party a lot, spend a lot of money, and travel. Though this really wasn't that bad (who doesn't love these things), I initially thought she was just shallow because thats really all she could talk about. However, as we spent more time together bragged to me about her older brother threw a glass ashtray at an elderly neighbor. Additionally, at a one point in the double date, she made fun of a man going for a run outside. He was actually in pretty decent shape and even had visible abs, but she kept saying how he was "too overweight" to be running without a shirt, and bragged about how she was in great shape and runs marathons. Despite this, she has a pretty significant muffin top and if my understanding is correct she hasn't run a marathon in many years. When we actually went to our reunion, she kept complaining to me that all of my college classmates kept staring at her and that they were all clearly "obsessed with her" because of how attractive she is - even at times when there would be almost nobody around. At the end of our time together, he told me he want to elevate their relationship and was thinking about moving in with her. He also suggested to other people he was interested in getting married and having kids soon.
I called my friend few weeks after all of this and expressed concerns about his relationship. Trying to be as respectful as possible while being truthful, I told him that I was concerned about him furthering his relationship with this woman. First expressed that she was hard to talk to and that she displayed some concerning behaviors. Then I highlighted that he should consider that she might not be the best long term partner. I felt that since she made the death of his family member "all about her", she probably wont be good teammate or a supportive partner when they both go through difficult times together. In all, I probably spoke for about a minute and a half before he started getting defensive and hung up on me to "take a brake from the conversation".Afterwards he stopped talking to consistently me for about six months. He mentioned to other friends that he and I would have a formal discussion about how I crossed a line soon, but he kept putting it off and never reached out. Even after I sent an apology text, he kept ignoring me.
Finally, six months ago visited the city that I'm currently living in to visit some people in our friend group and didn't tell me. I was invited by people in our group to spend time with them, but I immediately noticed that something was off. When I would speak about my interests or things that were going on in my life, my former friend would roll his eyes or look at me with disgust. Later in the night, I asked him if he wanted to finally have the discussion her wanted to have and he explosively blew up at me. Immediately, he started intensely screaming at me asking me about why I didn't like his partner. This took me by surprise, so I started getting heated and I pointed out that she seemed pretty superficial, hard to talk to, and that she was really disrespectful to all of our friends. Quickly, he got even more angry and said that all of our friends were "career obsessed people" and that I was the worst one of them all because I'm obsessed with grad school. He said that I was "an egotistical person", with "poor social skills", and that I only care about making friends with people "who kiss my ass and and feed my enormous ego". Additionally, he stated that I was an extremely "selfish person" and he purposely grew apart from me because I was such a broken person with so many problems. He also said that if I couldn't see or agree with him I "needed to look deep within myself". After this, I went home, slept off the fight, and texted him to cut off the friendship the next day.
Not only did I found all of this hurtful, but I found this to be extremely hypocritical. Despite all that I did for him, he wasn't really there for me during the worst years of my life. Also, I recognize that I do work abnormally hard and dont spend time as much time with my friends as I used to. However, I feel that I mainly do this to so I can be successful in support my family and because grad school is a deep passion of mine.
I get the sense that now, some of my other friends are a bit upset with me because I ended this friendship. Is this my fault? I did press him. He initially said that he wanted to wait on our discussion, but I pointed out that we live in different states and don't see each other that much anymore. Did I pressure him too much? Maybe I'm being too sentimental, but I used to think that this was the person in my life who knew me the best. I used to always think of myself as the kind of person who will stand up for what is right. So hearing this from him, made me question my own self-perception a bit.
Sorry for the long, great-american-novel, of a post.
submitted by No_Impression7719
to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 22:00 ChirpinFromTheBench Boiled crab tonight
Back home from across the country for grandma’s funeral. Anyone know of a place with crab right now?
submitted by ChirpinFromTheBench
to Acadiana [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 21:32 lhudak2097 Why Endwalker & 6.4 are so important to me
( Written on the forums but sharing this story here as well. I've been dwelling a while and wanted to tell it. )
It's the early 90s.
Its labor day weekend on a cool night. I'm waiting to go see the fireworks at the labor day fair grounds but it was too early to leave yet. I curled up on the couch, watching my Mom with SNES controller in hand and playing Final Fantasy II(IV). She managed to reach the end of the game, having gone through many obstacles and acting out all the scenes just for me.
I listened to the theme of Final Fantasy IV plays out of the TV. I stare in wonder as every hero gets back up with encouragement against this angry blue ball that was in the way of the happily ever after. The crystal of light is used by Cecil against the creature and it changes into Zeromus.
I don't know why I remember it so vividly, years from now. The protuding ribs, the boney fingers, the putried muscle and the first four notes of the final boss music. My stomach sank and pure fear overcame me. To say I was scared was an understatement. It became my boogeyman as this... thing, this horrible creature wiped the entire team and Mom decided it was time to take a break and go see the labor day fireworks.
It stuck with me for days.
I was so scared of that thing, I ran into my bedroom even as the notes of the music could be heard through the door. I'd go to bed, dreaming of myself in a deep black void and that thing came out of the dark. I was so scared and those boney fingers grabbed me, pulled me into the dark with it. I had a hard enough time sleeping alone in my bedroom as it is and this was not helping.
Somewhere in my kid logic, I decided enough was enough. With permission from my Mom, I picked up her save file and I decided to face it myself. I memorized every powerful spell I knew she used from watching her play and I went up against the terror of my dreams. I was scared, really scared, but I forced myself on that couch and did what I had to do.
I was going to overcome that pile of self-proclaimed hatred... and I did it.
I finished where my Mom started. We got to see the happily ever after together. After that? It was a journey of playing video games together! From Final Fantasy III(VI), laughing the first time we heard Kefka's voice track, Earthbound and many more! I wasn't very good at the Mario games so I always watched Mom beat those with ease. Some weekends we'd get to see my aunt who was also a gamer in her own right.
I'd watch them play as they'd discuss their favorite games over coffee and ciggerates(This was the 90s, keep in mind). We'd borrow each other's cartridges. It was one of the small lights in my childhood that brought me happiness. Every time I see these games, I am reminded of my mom but Final Fantasy IV is what makes me think of my Mom most of all.
Age wasn't kind to her. She couldn't keep playing when she reached her 60s so I'd show her what I was doing from time to time. When I got into Final Fantasy XIV, I'd show her some of the throwbacks and how some things came out in 3D. MMOs confused her but she knew what Final Fantasy meant.
Then, in July 2020, she was gone; taken by leukemia. Even now, the pain of the loss stings since because of the pandemic, I don't have a grave to go to. There was no funeral, no memorial and no place to really go to mourn. Her ashes are there but there wasn't a real place for me to go to. I thought about not playing 5.3 since I didn't know if I could handle experiencing more loss if anything happened to G'raha Tia. I decided to wing it. Elidibus' last line hit after the battle hit the hardest in 5.3.
So, after that, I decided to go with it and reach to the end; to Endwalker.
Final Fantasy IV was everywhere in this expansion pack and the themes hit particularly close to home. Moenbryda's parents with Urianger hit me harder than anything could have in this game. I felt as if my Mom was with me; the town theme on the moon bringing me to tears and brought me back to when she was alive.
Then, 6.4 drops and I'm enjoying beating up Golbez in a weird reunion all the while reminiscing of my childhood. I am ready to reach the end when he decides to sacrifice Adjaza into the pit... and I hear him call that name. I scream. I stare as the pit goes from red to blue and that face.
That face appears in the pit.
And I am now that child all over again, sitting on the couch on labor day weekend. It's just the angry blue ball but now in HD. I know what's coming but this time, Mom isn't here anymore. I'm the adult now. I'm not sure how it'll look in 3D or how Soken is going to remix the final boss theme; will I even be able to tank it with the emotional roller coaster going through me? Yet the most ironic part of all is that the estimation of the next patch is September; maybe even around Labor Day in America. No one could plan these series of coincidences even if they tried.
It feels like I've done nothing but find bits of closure through Endwalker. I got to relive the moments of Mom being alive from childhood to adulthood. I've been able to mourn and let myself process these feelings where a pandemic robbed me of that. Don't get me wrong; it stings still and her third year anniversary is coming up. I plan to find somewhere to go to sit quietly and contemplate on that day.
But Endwalker and beyond gave me this sense of closure and I feel like at the end of the road, in striking Zeromus one more time, I can close the door just so I can open a new one. She was my warrior of light, my my friend, my companion in every Final Fantasy.
The rains have ceased and we have been graced with another beautiful day.
But you are not here to see it.
submitted by lhudak2097
to ffxiv [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 21:29 HGG-thrwy Don't give up. Feel your emotions. You will survive, and people will be there for you. Thank you all for saving my life
This is largely a thank you post to the HGG community, and Dr. K. in particular. You all literally saved my life. I will always be indebted to you.
A few years ago, I was contemplating suicide. I was a 26 y/o virgin with only minimal dating experience. I grew up in a religious cult, started by my father, and while deep down I didn't believe it, it took me until I was 26 to accept it emotionally and begin healing from that process. I was broke, just fired from grad school, and desperate to continue in school because I believed, at that time, that my worth was only as good as my intelligence and career success. But because I had given up on my religious background, I had no friends, no allies, no safe place to express my feelings. Every day, I would apply to new labs at my university, continue teaching in a subject I didn't care about, then come home, drink alcohol, and practice playing Russian Roulette with a revolver my father gave me for my 18th birthday.
A couple of weeks after doing this, my best friend from college called to tell me that his father had killed himself. I'll spare the details, but it was unexpected and gruesome. At the funeral, my friend's mother was telling me about his father. That he had been sexually abused as a child, that he felt immense guilt for his career success, and that he never thought he deserved the love of his two highly successful children or his wife. He was 55 when he killed himself.
I spent a week with my friend at his house. I slept on the couch, and helped with cleaning, cooking, helping with anything I could. Never once did anyone cry. It was dead quiet, except for the comedies the family watched together. I secretly cried in the bathroom when I took showers, as it felt like the only place I could feel my sadness without disrupting the family's "peace".
I returned home, shaken to my core. If my friend's father could be 55, with a loving family and highly successful career, and still feel the need to kill himself, then how would I ever survive? How would I ever be happy? I was due to go back to school, but I didn't want to go. I was too overwhelmed and helpless. Where once I had held a cultist religious belief to keep my going, now my source of hope was gone. I got out the revolver again, this time loaded it, and then started crying.
I don't know what moved me to do this, but I called an acquaintance of mine who I knew was interested in collecting guns. I told him I had a gun I didn't need, and wanted to see if he was interested in buying it from me. He came over that evening, and I showed him my father's revolver. I sold it to him for $5. He knew what I was doing, and to this day he still checks in on me every once in a while.
The next day, I went to my school's mental health provider, and got a recommendation for a psychologist.
Growing up, my identity was shaped by my father, through emotional and sexual abuse, to think that I was a chosen one, born to save the world through my intelligence. My father is highly intelligent, and narcissistic. As his first child, he expected me to be everything he was, but better. He grew up in a trailer park in rural Texas, where he was surrounded by sexual abuse, violence, and drug addiction. He and his 4 siblings were highly motivated, and all of them worked hard in school to get scholarships and go to college. My father worked himself silly, got 2 master's degrees, and found a prestigious engineering job in the national security sector. The sector he worked in exacerbated the paranoia he had from growing up in an abusive environment, and simultaneously gave him a superiority complex.
He was actually a decent father for the first few years of my life. My parents fought often, but he did his best to take care of me as best he knew how. He was work-obsessed, and his religion that protected him from the abuses of his upbringing made him extremely misogynistic. So, while he wasn't the most pleasant to be around, he wasn't the worst.
That all changed when I was about 4 or 5. In the span of a year, my mom became accidentally pregnant with my little brother, and my father's father died. The drive to Texas for the funeral was the beginning of a youth full of sexual and emotional abuse. My father nearly killed us all in the car with his road rage. I was so scared I soiled myself. We pulled over at a gas station to clean me up, he beat me and told me how much he hated me, and how selfish I was for not holding it in. When we arrived at his moms house, he made me shower with him, and sexually assaulted me as punishment.
From then on, I was keenly aware of my father. In public, he would laud me, shower praise on me, and tell everyone how proud he was of me. In private, he would hold me down in bed, force me to make eye contact, and repeat everything he said to him, as he told me he hated me, that I stole his opportunity for success away from him, and that I was the most selfish person he knew. He would force me to memorize bible verses, sing hymns, and pray for forgiveness for all of my many sins. As a young child, I had no idea what my sins were. He brainwashed me into thinking I was sent from God to save the world using my intelligence. Growing up, I wanted to be a musician. I was very talented, but my father was incredibly jealous of my abilities, and forced me to study math and science, because that was what he believed saved him from his abusive childhood.
I processed all of this through psychotherapy with my psychologist, and it helped immensely. I kept applying for research jobs, and got a PhD in a highly competitive field. I made tons of friends who welcomed and supported me. But it wasn't enough, and I still felt lonely and purposeless. I was capable of doing, and getting better at feeling, but not accepting myself, and still carrying judgement for myself. I still felt as though life was passing me by, and I had no choices to make, only adversities to survive.
It was during COVID when I discovered Dr. K and HGG. I was in Texas at the time, and had just survived the big freeze, where I had a week with no water or power. I was looking for jobs, not feeling like anything I did mattered, and that my relationships were hollow. Dr K's lectures helped me to accept my past, to allow myself to be patient, and to process the insane amounts of trauma I had survived. Every interview was helpful, and allowed me to grow my compassion for myself. I began meditating and coaching around the same time, and my psychologist began a group. Through all of that, I had an experience which allowed me to be enlightened, and that experience has made me incredibly grateful for my past, and has even allowed me to forgive my father. And while I say I forgive him, he will never be a part of my life again. The forgiveness is for me, understanding how he became how he is, and forgiving myself for my late start. I didn't put any effort into forgiving him. I just realized it happened, and it took me a long time to accept that.
I'm writing this today from a place of incredible gratitude. Since all of this, I discovered that I was using porn to cope with the memories of abuse, and the insanely high expectations I held for myself. I have been working on that addiction. I have had 2 long term girlfriends, and a healthy sex life, and sex communication with them. I've lost over 60 pounds through cycling and weight lifting. I eat healthier and feel great. Though I still resent my career, I have learned (better) how to detach from it. In two years I went from being un-hirable, to being a professor. My boss and I are starting a company. I am single now, but I have begun to overcome my social anxiety for being so far behind in life, and am starting to date again, knowing that I am enough even with my intense doubts. Despite intense social anxiety, last night, I made a new friend at a bar, because he liked my bike. We went on a bike ride this morning with his wife, and it was very nice. I have learned guitar, and I sing in a community choir, and try to make music as much as I can.
I am still not happy. I know nothing I do or experience, nor any person can fill the gaping hole in my heart. But the change now, is that I allow myself to feel my discomfort and unhappiness. The tears, dry-heaves, and flashbacks have all made room in my life for happiness and gratitude. That is something I never thought I would ever feel. And eventhough my social circle isn't as big as I'd like, and my friends aren't as close as I'd like, and eventhough I'm single for the moment, I know I am enough. I know I have survived hardships, and that I can do incredible things. I know I don't have to do incredible things to be deserving of love. And when I do die, it will be because of something out of my control, and I will not be to blame for it.
If you are struggling, please reach out for help. Talk about your feelings. Feel your feelings. Especially the ones that make you feel the most helpless. Your feelings cannot harm you. They are there for you as a way to protect you. If you do not feel safe with your emotions, it means you have been trained that sharing your emotions isn't safe. I encourage you to find a safe person or place to share your feelings with, and to treat yourself with the same amount of respect and dignity you would give anyone else. And for those of you who have also found this same peace and acceptance, understand that you cannot force it upon anyone else. Many times, people have tried to help me find this peace and acceptance I have today, but I had to find my own way there, when I was ready. If you have people in your life who struggle, please just be patient and supportive. You can't do this for someone else.
Thank you so much to this community, and to Dr. K especially. You are all incredibly kind and helpful, and I have been given so much insight into who I am, and what I am capable of, through your support and sharing of your own stories. Treat each other well, and do your best to be the person you needed when you were a child.
submitted by HGG-thrwy
to Healthygamergg [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 21:22 Realistic-Run-3090 Family Issues
Hey there ya’ll. I've been observing this sub for a while, and decided if everyone's been ranting out, why shouldn't I?
All you need to know about me and my life story, is I'm M20 with sisters 15 and 11. My parents are in a 21-year-long marriage and it's been quite a rough ride. We live in a joint family system where we used to be upper class when my parents got married. Though after only 7 years some family issues such as Bhai behn ki jaidaat and Dada and his brothers resulted in our property getting lost and we downgraded our lifestyle. To me, it's been the way of life to live like this but I guess my parents would have certainly felt the shift.
I hope you're still reading as the parts ahead lie very close to me and not even my friend who's a literal brother and considers his home to be mine doesn't know about.
As a child, I was beaten up by my father on every possible occasion up till the age of 13 or 14. Some of those times, I remember my dear mum jumping In to save me. This issue wasn't as big until after my dadas death. I still dream about that. As I matured a bit and ventured into puberty, my curiosity developed and it resulted in me hearing a convo that I still think back to.
My mum wasn't my Abba’s first wife.
This topic however is still considered taboo in our family and I do not know more. Around the age of 17, I learnt, 1. My mum wasn't allowed to attend her own mother's funeral 2. She was angel-like in her twenties. She loved and still loves dressing up, like who doesn't? She has tons of make-up and accessories that she absolutely adores but for some reason rarely uses them 3. My father's family had some dirt on some relatives of my mum's side.
At first appearance, they look just like an old happy couple in their forties, with their children receiving education and doing well in life, but I for real can't ignore it anymore.
Today as I took both of them out as a treat, cause I was to receive an award for my contributions to a project at some event. They seemed happy. She asked us to drop her off at her father's place as it was like two streets away, so we did and I decided to take my dad out to a milkshake or smth tea or whatever. He called my mum once. No answer from her phone. Got mad, and forced me to go to her parent’s house. I called my aunt(mums sis) she said my mum was praying and couldn't answer. He got really mad. Like, do expect her to do? Break her prayer to answer your Godliness phone?
On the way back he asked her a bit harshly what she was doing and she said she was praying. He then asked what was for food at home. PS, he tasted the food to make sure of spices so he obv knew but let's give the benefit of the doubt and presume he forgot. She said khana banana hai. He asked ke ghar pe khana nahi to Bahar se kuch lele? She said again me gharpe khana hai. The event had food but it would be served around midnight so we went home. He then started complaining and shouting ke tum iske event ke liye to make up pehn ke gain. Aur Phir phone bhi nahi uthaya. Obv making an assumption etc. Like wtf? They proceeded to have a full-on argument and my youngest sister was still there.
Over the years, I have gone through a lot of pain but I know I should handle it. But my heart dies when I see my sisters in pain. I can bear the trauma. They can't. They're young and they're girls. They should be protected from harsh life. And this isn't sexism or misogyny it's simple care for one's sister.
I have countless times convinced my mum to get a temporary separation. There have been times when the fights gave her stress enough to put her in ICU of the high pressure exerted bc of blood pressure or smth and blood clotting. Yet she cares deeply about that man.
I'm open to any advice on how to handle this situation. I feel as the eldest youngster or brother or eldest son I have a responsibility to see through the well-being of my family.
Thanks for listening to my rant if you made it this far.
submitted by Realistic-Run-3090
to PakistaniiConfessions [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 20:22 Jolly_Tea7519 My ex FMIL was an embarrassing woman to be around.
She wasn’t a text book MIL from hell, just a very broken woman who didn’t know what was appropriate to say and do in front of people.
1) when my fiancé and I bought a bed bc we were planning on moving in together. While out to eat with several family members we mentioned something about the bed. She then begins lecturing me on how I need to buy a mattress cover because I will ruin the mattress with my periods and that I don’t know how to perform proper hygiene. This woman had never been past my front door in my home nor has ever had to deal with any of my hygiene issues she’s pretending I have. Everyone at the table felt very uncomfortable, her daughter later told me that MIL was neglected as a kid and not daughter proper hygiene so she assumes everyone else also doesn’t know how to care for themselves.
2) at my fiancés funeral before the actual service, in front of several people she addresses the “Virgin love” I had for her son. She went on to say, “my son was your first in everything and I know it will be hard to move past this but maybe one day I’ll be able to have sex again.” Once again, everyone felt uncomfortable because what the actual fuck?!?
3) when I was pregnant for my son we found out he was going to have a heart defect. She and her husband had a prayer circle going to heal by baby. They invited me over for dinner one night and it ended up being a prayer ambush. She invited several of her prayer circle people and she asked me to sit in a chair while they all prayed around me. Her husband tried laying hands on my belly while saying he is casting out the demons harming his grandson. I was in shock and froze. After they were done they were ready to eat, I stepped outside for fresh air and left.
4) after finding out I was pregnant she sat me down to have a sex talk with me. She was talking to me as if I was a child, I was about to graduate nursing school and her son and I had been engaged for well over a year at this point. I reinforced with her that even though the pregnancy wasn’t planned that it was welcomed. We had been together for 3 years at that point and it was just a happy accident from a course of antibiotics that made my bc fail.
I’m sure there were more incidences that I can’t recall at the moment. She was over all a well intentioned woman, just didn’t know what the time or place was for talking about things.
submitted by Jolly_Tea7519
to motherinlawsfromhell [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 19:29 tellmeguru Funeral processions running red lights
Never encountered this before but almost got run over by a funeral procession this afternoon. I crossed with the light and didn't realize they were all about to go through the red with no intention of stopping. Couldn't catch the funeral home name.
Is this a normal thing in Peterborough? Because this is illegal under the Highway Traffic Act, unless police escorts are involved.
I understand how devastating it is to lose a loved one, but please don't put others at risk. Especially as little kids are out and about during the good weather.
submitted by tellmeguru
to Peterborough [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 18:21 theclumsystol John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 18:17 theclumsystol John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 18:14 theclumsystol John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 17:54 forkedfertilization John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 17:52 forkedfertilization John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 17:49 forkedfertilization John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 17:45 ConventionalChina John Regala Cause Of Death , Obituary, Funeral
2023.06.03 17:16 morsodo99 he died 😔
2023.06.03 16:26 PixiePower65 Swan song. What song would you pick to cross over while listening
Just read a Reddit story on nursing
. Dude had them play Sweet Home Alabama on his way out.
ICU nurses granted the request by playing it for whole hospital.
Rather liked the thought of this. So what tune are you picking?
“Stayin Alive “ is my brothers request for the funeral 😂🥰
submitted by PixiePower65
to cancer [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 16:25 MrBigBean Deceased's Council Tax Debt - Do we have to pay?
My mother in law passed away 2 weeks ago. Today, a letter was posted to the house from the local council stating that there was an outstanding debt on the account of just over £1400. The letter is addressed to "Executors" followed by my mother in law's name.
She had 4 children, 2 of which still lived at home with her (aged 20 & 19). The 19 year old is still in education and has no job. The 20 year old was her designated full time carer and so received carer's allowance, this was his only income. Now he has no income coming in so there's no money going into the household.
There was no will in place, no estate left behind, the house is a council house and there is a small amount of money in my mother in law's bank which will cover parts of the funeral and that's it. There will be nothing left after this.
Do the 2 children who still live there have to take over the debt or will it be wiped due to the debt technically belonging to a deceased person?
submitted by MrBigBean
to LegalAdviceUK [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 16:13 tunafishwilliams I took this on my way home from a funeral. X-T1 / Viltrox 23mm 1.4
2023.06.03 16:12 tunafishwilliams I took this on my way home from a funeral. X-T1 / Viltrox 23mm 1.4
2023.06.03 16:00 MissDirected67 Proxy sealing of murder victim
TW: domestic homicide
I need help.
I work with victims of abuse as a legal advocate.
A few days ago I got a call from a former co-worker who took a job at another DV agency in another state.
This co-worker knows I am exmo.
It appears that a family member of a woman who was murdered by her ex-husband, has had her sealed to him by proxy.
The victim left the abusive husband. He stalked and threatened her for the two years the divorce dragged on. He was arrested multiple times. She got a restraining order. She did everything to get away from him. He made her life hell.
Three weeks after the divorce was final, he attacked her outside her home and stabbed her repeatedly, killing her. He then died by self-inflicted gun shot in a standoff with police.
Their obituaries ran the same day, separate, but made no mention of the circumstances of their deaths. Or the murder.
This was years ago.
Fast forward to a few months ago.
The victims sister, a Non-mormon, was helping their grandchild complete a fourth generation family history chart for school.
They went to ancestry.com.
She discovered that not only had her sister been baptized but also sealed to her murderer.
Furthermore, the records of the victim and murderer show only a marriage. No divorce. The record - and I looked at it - makes it appear they were still married and died together, like in a car accident or something.
I hope you can appreciate the absolute horror of this situation for the victim's family!
They tried contacting the church but were told a "family member had submitted their names for the work."
After hearing how the victim died, the person they talked to sympathized but said "the Lord will sort it out" and that the victim "can choose to reject the sealing if she wants."
She fucking divorced him!! She made her choice already!
Sister is absolutely outraged her sister is sealed to the man she fought hard to escape. The man who ultimately murdered her.
She's also outraged that the records show only that they died together on the same day. It appears to the unknowing reader that they were still married and died on a car accident or something.
Help me out here.
Who are we calling, what policy am I invoking, is this acceptable? What?
How do I help honor this victim's effort to escape her abuser?
I don't need an answer this weekend, but I'm planning to tackle this starting Wednesday.
Thank you in advance for helping.
(Fucking Mormon church)
submitted by MissDirected67
to exmormon [link] [comments]