The Bear

 

The importance of giving all you got and to appreciate the time you have.

 

I realized that the most important thing about death is to ensure that you leave this world a little better than it was before you existed with your contributions. The way I’ve lived my life so far, my existence or more precisely the loss of it, will not matter because I have lived without doing anything impactful.

Before, there were so many things that occupied my mind. When I learned how much time I had left, however, it became clear which things are really important. So, I am writing to you for a selfish reason. I want to give meaning to my life by sharing with you what I have realized:

·         Don’t waste your time on work that you don’t enjoy. It is obvious that you cannot succeed in something that you don’t like. Patience, passion, and dedication come easily only when you love what you do.

·         It’s stupid to be afraid of others’ opinions. Fear weakens and paralyzes you. If you let it, it can grow worse and worse every day until there is nothing left of you, but a shell of yourself. Listen to your inner voice and go with it. Some people may call you crazy, but some may even think you‘re a legend.

·         Take control of your life Take full responsibility for the things that happen to you. Limit bad habits and try to lead a healthier life. Find a sport that makes you happy. Most of all, don’t procrastinate. Let your life be shaped by decisions you made, not by the ones you didn’t.

·         Appreciate the people around you, your friends and relatives will always be an infinite source of strength and love. That is why you shouldn’t take them for granted.

It is difficult for me to fully express my feelings about the importance of these simple realizations, but I hope that you will listen to someone who has experienced how valuable time is.

I'm not upset because I understand that the last days of my life have become meaningful. I only regret that I will not be able to see a lot of cool stuff that should happen soon like the creation of AI, or Elon Musk’s next awesome project.

We care so much about the health and integrity of our body that until death, we don’t notice that the body is nothing more than a box - a parcel for delivering our personality, thoughts, beliefs and intentions to this world. If there is nothing in this box that can change the world, then it doesn’t matter if it disappears. I believe that we all have potential, but it also takes a lot of courage to realize it.

You can float through a life created by circumstances, missing day after day, hour after hour. Or, you can fight for what you believe in and write the great story of your life. I hope you will make the right choice.

Leave a mark in this world. Have a meaningful life, whatever definition it has for you. Go towards it. The place we are leaving is a beautiful playground, where everything is possible. Yet, we are not here forever. Our life is a short spark in this beautiful little planet that flies with incredible speed to the endless darkness of the unknown universe. So, enjoy your time here with passion. Make it interesting. Make it count!

Thank you!

Series: secret that could literally ruin your life if it came out. (Episode 2)

 

I was a gay child hooker.

Ok, so this is a secret I've kept for nearly 20 years.

During the summers when I was growing up, my parents would often leave my brother and I(I'm male) with our aunt and uncle who lived out in the country. It was great as they had 4 sons of ages close to ours so we had a lot of fun doing kids stuff.

One summer when I was 8, the oldest cousin was maybe 16. We somehow got talking and he asked me if I wanted to sleep in his room that night. He has the nicest room and bed so I was all for it. Got into bed and he asked if he could touch my penis. I was 8 and just thought it was ok so I let him. He rubs it for a bit and then asks me to do the same to him. So I do. This progresses and eventually I'm sucking his cock. I think I knew this was wrong so I said I didn't want to carry on. We stop and I go to sleep quite confused.

I wake up and he hands me some money and tells me never to tell anyone about what happened. Next night he tries to do the same thing.. But now all I care about is the money. So I do it. This carried on for 2 summers.

Eventually I got old enough to realize it was quite wrong regardless of the money and stopped.

I've not told anyone this. He's now married with 2 kids. I'm also married and we see them sometimes at family events. I don't have the balls to even try and talk to him about it.. Hell I'm not even sure what I'd say.

I'm sure this will get buried but just getting it off my chest makes me feel better.

Series: secret that could literally ruin your life if it came out. (Episode 1)

 

I'm interested in reaction to this (as I've never told anyone before) and also to see what out-there fucked up things you've done. The sort of things that make you question your own sanity, your own worth. Surely I can't be alone.

 

 

[Background, I'm a guy in my late 20s who was taken into care aged 7.] Everyone around me already knows that I was brought up by foster families because I had a shit early childhood. I deliberately keep it vague and say stuff like "I'd rather not go into it" so that people will just assume I was abused in some way and they'll stop asking about it.

The truth is that for the first 7 years of my life, I was brought up as a girl by my pshyco birth mother who really really really wanted a daughter and didn't let the snag of giving birth to a boy stop her from trying to raise one.

She was a pretty successful professional in a legal field (not entirely sure what) and had me via anonymous sperm donor from a fertility clinic. She found out i was a boy at a late ultrasound and then moved across the country. Gave birth to me at home and continued to move about until I was 5 or so. It was just the two of us all my life, we had contact with other people, of course, but they rarely got very close. I had lots of friends, but was always supervised.

I found out way way after that my mother's strong puritanical Christianity was a lie she used to explain why she was so strict about me being 'private' and never letting anyone see me get changed or anything. I just accepted all of this as fact, having never been told anything different.

I was sent to a religious school for girls and had a really great childhood. I was a bit of a tomboy, and played with Lego and toy animals, rather than dolls and stuff, but that's not unusual and no one ever questioned I was a girl - even me. I knew about men and women, but had never really seen much of naked people. my mother never ever spoke to me about it, but I kinda had the impression that when I grew up and got boobs and stuff, my dick would kinda fall off or something and I would be a woman, and other kids would keep their dicks and they'd be men. I don’t know, to be honest, I never really thought about it

Anyway, I carried on with my happy girlhood, and had a bunch of friends and everything was great until I was 7 and a teacher accidentally spilled a cup of hot coffee over me at school. The liquid soaked through my clothes and was scalding me so the staff immediately stripped me out of my dress and underwear to get the hot coffee away from my skin. And then they found out.

The cops were called and I got taken to speak with who I guess would be Social Services. They asked me a bunch of questions about life at home and stuff. Meanwhile, my mother was taken in for questioning too. She refused to acknowledge me as male and insisted I was her daughter. Because she was, y'know, delusional and stuff, I wasn't allowed to go back home but got put with a foster family and went through loads of therapy and stuff.

The worst part was that literally overnight, I lost EVERYTHING. my mother, my home, all my toys, all my clothes, I moved school so lost all my friends, they cut all my hair off and told me I wasn't a girl any more. It was really really traumatic.

The first forster home wasn't that great. They had three boys already and going from a sheltered 'religious' only-child upbringing to a rough-and-tumble testosterone-filled environment was really difficult. They tried to force me to be masculine and I was just too confused about what they wanted. Anything 'girly' was reprimanded and I felt so lost and alone because nothing I did was right.

I tried to commit suicide when I was 11 and again at 13 because I didn't feel I fitted in anywhere. After the second attempt, they moved me to a different foster family who were awesome. I consider them to be my parents. They actually stood up for me, the first thing was that they let me grow my hair. From when I got taken into care, they buzzed my hair short, and I hated it. They always had to hold me down and do it forcibly while I was crying and fighting. My new parents flatly refused to do it and said that loads of boys had long hair. They also let me quit karate and football and take up swimming and jazz dance. Since I’d been in care, no one had ever stood up for my right to choose what activities to do, or how to dress before. It was amazing.

in the end, I came out of it with a pretty healthy gender identity (I’m a guy, but not the most butch guy ever, but I’m fine with that), I went through school and got my degree and have a pretty good job and an amazing, supportive wife. Everything looks great.

But I can never speak about my early childhood, and how I grew up as a little girl.

I hope this happens to you. All the best.

 

Compassion fatigue, taking off your mask.

 

Compassion fatigue is a condition characterized by emotional and physical exhaustion leading to a diminished ability to empathize or feel compassion for others, often described as the negative cost of caring. It is sometimes referred to as secondary traumatic stress (STS).

 

I am 41M and have been with my 39F girlfriend "Meredith" for 7 years. She's amazing in many ways, and is the love of my life. I could easily see us in our 80's, sitting on a porch holding hands in rocking chairs. I love her sooo much. She's a really, really good person.

Unfortunately, our life together isn't as stable as I'd like, Meredith has loads of anxiety, and there are very few occasions when she seems calm and content in life. Every time that things seem to settle down for a moment, some new personal crisis pops up and gets her spun up. It's a steady stream of them - it's like she's not happy unless she's completely freaking out about something. She is vibrating with tension at all times, and careens from crisis to crisis to crisis.

The crises I'm talking about are typical life stuff - work stress, office politics, bills, house repairs, family drama. Some of them are legitimately big deals, but others are just normal life ups and downs. She seems overwhelmed and beaten down by them.

Meredith leans on me pretty hard for emotional support. She is constantly saying "I've had a really rough day, please be patient with me tonight." She often wants to modify our date plans because she's too frazzled to go out. Instead, we'll spend the evening at home, where I nurse her back to a state of calm with footrubs and Netflix. About once a week, when she is sufficiently calmed down we do make some quality sexytime, but most of the time she is too stressed out to have a libido.

Over the years I have done everything I can to be patient and supportive. I've basically become like a caretaker who helps to de-stress her every day. Meredith has a bad day, I soothe her and make everything OK. Some of her anxiety then rubs off onto me. Rinse, lather, repeat the next day. It's always been like this.

In the process, I've repeatedly set my own emotional needs aside. There are times when I have had a really rough day at work and could use some nurturing, but that isn't something that fits into our relationship dynamic. There are times I just want to sit down for dinner with a partner and hear about their good day. I just want a normal life, and to have my own needs met sometimes. I think I have what is called caregiver fatigue or compassion fatigue. I am just emotionally worn out and tired of setting aside my needs for hers.

I know that some of you will suggest counseling. She has been in therapy for a few years now and is making some noticeable progress, but still has a way to go.

But here are some things I have learned over the years.

 

1.    Ask the person what they need. Oftentimes when a person we care about is struggling we want to jump in and fix everything. That’s not always what the person needs. Maybe they just need to vent to someone without judgement. They might not want advice, because they know what they should be doing, but their condition is making that hard. Maybe they don’t want to talk at all and just need a hug or a shoulder rub (if you both are comfortable with physical contact). Or maybe they just want to sit with you and watch a movie, or go for a walk, and take their mind off of it. Giving advice that is never taken is draining and frustrating - but you can help them without doing that.

2.    Tell them what you need. Just because you don’t have the same mental struggles doesn’t mean you can’t also have needs. Let’s say they came to you asking to vent, but you had a long day and are tired physically and emotionally. Tell them “I am not in a place to be able to carry that right now.” This is when you could offer to do something else for them, or tell them when you feel you’ll be better able to help. You could also tell them a time limit if you have some energy to give. Like “I would love to let you vent, but I need to set a limit of 15 minutes today. After that let’s agree to change the subject, or do another activity that we can both use to unwind.” This gives your person a clear view of your boundary and lets them still get support from you.

3.    It’s okay to have lines that can’t be crossed. Adding to the boundaries I brought up in point 2, it’s perfectly okay to have limits on where your support ends. There may be topics that are triggering or uncomfortable for you and you are allowed to say talking about those is off-limits. You can also change those limits depending on what’s happening in your own life. Maybe they have a bad relationship with a parent, while your beloved parent is unwell. It’s not going to feel good for you to hear them talk about how horrible their mother is when you want nothing more than for your mom to get better. That would be an appropriate time to tell them this is a boundary and if they need support in this then they need to seek it elsewhere. You can still be there for them, but find a way around this particular issue. Your limits can also be time-based rather than topic-based. You can tell them they can’t contact you while you are at work, or before/after x time. Or that you can only hang out on x days.

4.    Communication. This is the most important. Just be honest with them. They don’t want you to burn out. They don’t want to drag you down with them. But one of the symptoms of these problems can be pushing people away and isolating yourself. That means that they only have a limited number of supports in their life and it can put a lot of pressure on the supports they do have. It’s up to you to be very clear about how you’re feeling and what you need so they don’t push you away too. If you do all of the above from a loving place they will be happy to know they aren’t putting too much on you. Being clear about this will ultimately be helpful to you both.

5.    They need to respect you. If they don’t listen to your boundaries it’s okay to cut them off. If you have to go that route, it would be kind to let them know why. But you always need to put your own health first. You deserve to have friends that you enjoy being around. You deserve to be happy. You don’t need to be anyone’s emotional doormat.

 

Remember, you can only do what you can do. We have a finite reserve of sympathy and compassion. It can and does get used up. If this happens, it needs to replenish itself. It can only do that if you are able to back off of the situation or relationship and take the time to do that. Even if you end the relationship and never see this person or these people again, you still need to do it. Have some compassion for yourself, too. Compassion fatigue can have serious ramifications on mental and emotional health if it is not addressed. Worse, it can eventually rob people of healthy compassion for others and that is something we definitely need more of in this world.

 

This isn’t a step-by-step list, and all the points won’t work in all situations or for all people. I can tell it definitely resonates for a lot of people though, so I hope you will be able to use it to better navigate your own relationships.

 

Best wishes to you all!

Never devalue the impact another person can have.

 

 I ignored everyone growing up because they ignored me. The one day I didn't changed my life.

I was a pretty normal kid growing up. I liked playing football, I liked going to school, and I loved to read. I had a bunch of close friends who grew up on my street, and life was good. When I was in kindergarten, my teachers noticed that I was an unusually good student, but that I had a lot of difficulty staying on task. After some discussion with my parents, they decided that the best way to deal with my above-average ability was to place me straight into the first grade. I'm from Nigeria, so I'm not entirely sure how it translates to the rest of the world, but that meant being a five year old in a class of seven year olds. It sounds scary, but with recess and evenings, I still had my old friends to play with. I didn't really like school as much, but I was happy. Fast forward two years. In my school (again, not sure if this is a standard thing or not), every third grade student has to write a "gifted" test. It was a multiple choice test, with a follow up interview for a handful of high scoring kids. (I scored in the "extremely superior range") Based on the results of my interview, I was recommended for a special school. My parents were thrilled, and jumped at the chance to have me attend.

So when I was seven, I left all of my friends behind, and joined a school in a different town, where everyone was at least two years my senior. I don't really want to get in to the details of what I experienced there, but I didn't come out the same person. I had lost all my curiosity, I acted out in class, and I cried in the washroom at recess because no one wanted to play with "the little baby". So there I was, eight years old and already depressed. I didn't want to tell my parents, because they were always so positive about the school, so happy about the teaching I was getting. My old friends had moved on, a consequence of the move and our time apart. I started faking sick and skipping class. I would rub warm water on my forehead, hold hot water under my tongue to fool a thermometer, and pretend to throw up in the morning (hold orange juice, cereal, and chunks of fruit in your mouth for a couple minutes, works like a dream), all to avoid going to school. I wasn't being beaten up, but anyone who's ever been an outcast will tell you that being constantly excluded and treated like a freak hurts just as badly. So like the stereotypical little nerd, I found love and attention online. I started with Counter Strike, and quickly moved to Diablo, World Of Warcraft, and Call of Duty. In this world, no one knew that I was young, no one knew that I was a loser. I poured my heart and soul into video games for nearly six years. Being good at video games got me respect (albeit on an EXTREMELY superficial level), and helped me learn to socialize. One day when I was fourteen, I met someone on Xbox Live. We were both playing Call of Duty (which I was then doing on a semi-professional level), and he invited me to play with him. His name was Zach, and to be honest, I thought he was a loser. In the online gaming world, I was the popular kid. I was incredibly good and incredibly arrogant about it, and I didn't have time for casual kids like him. Not only was he younger than me; he had a weird voice, made jokes that no one got, and was embarrassing to be around. So I ignored him. I ignored him the same way that people had been ignoring me for years. He passed in to my life for a minute, and out again without a second thought on my part. I guess he figured that I was one of those kids, one of those "too cool for you" kids that we apparently both knew too well. I came home the next day from school, holding back tears because the people who had promised to work on a project with me all abandoned me for other groups. Waiting for me in my inbox was a message from Zach. It wasn't anything unusual, just "want to play". Yesterday I had ignored it, but today I was reaching out for some kind of connection, anything to convince myself that I was worth being with. I invited him to a game, and we played. I didn't talk much; he tended to dominate the conversation with his weird jokes and strange chuckle. But hey, he wasn't playing with me because I was good, he just wanted to play. So I played with him again the next day, and the next, and before long it started to give me hope. I wasn't as unhappy about school, because I knew I had someone at home who was waiting for me. I had a friend. Before I knew it, Zach and i had been playing together for two years. I was in grade ten at this point, and I started to finally make some friends at school. Me and Zach played together a few times a week, but because I had other people in my life, I never really looked forward to it as much as I used to. I gradually played less and less, and then stopped altogether. So lets skip forward to the present. I took a year off after high school, partly to decide what I wanted to do with my life and partly because I couldn't stand being a sideshow for the rest of my school career. I reinvented myself. I put on some muscle from working, cut my hair, took care of myself. My acne cleared up, I got some more confidence, and I stopped talking to Zach as much. I had some friends from work, and by the time I got home from my shift I was too tired to talk on skype or vent. I would watch a movie or read a book, and in the span of a few months, Zach phased out of my life entirely.

That was last September. I'm almost done my first year of University now, and I'm happier than I can ever remember. I have a girlfriend, a handful of true friends, and I wake up every morning without dread for the day, without that sick feeling in my stomach, without depression.

I hadn't thought about Zach at all until last month. He messaged me on skype, telling me he had something really important to talk to me about. I answered, and on the other end of the line were two voices. Zach's, and a girl he called Melissa(Melinda maybe?). It was the first time in more than half a year that I'd heard from the kid. We'd never really talked much, other than about whatever game we were playing together. That night was different. With Melissinda sitting beside him, he told me about the day we first played together. He was really overweight, and suffered in school even more than I did. He was an outcast and a punching bag, good for a cheap laugh before he got tossed back into the shadows. Apparently at the age of thirteen, he had already attempted suicide once, and was preparing to try again. Even online, where I found myself, he was ignored because of his strange voice and mannerisms. He told me that I was the first person to ever play with him more than once, the first person to not make fun of him for his voice, or call him a loser. He told me that coming home to play cod with me was what got him through the day. I will never forget what he said. "Eric, I love you man. If it wasn't for you, I would have killed myself. You're my best friend."

I was an outcast. He was an outcast. Neither of us was handling it. The pain was awful, but one person was all it took to fix it. He has a girlfriend now too, and he's going to college next year.

Never think of someone else as worthless. Everyone feels alone sometimes. Despite how they might appear, a stranger you run into on any given day could change your life.

Take it from me; take it from Zach. Something as simple as a notification on a video game can be the hand that saves you from drowning.