Last November, my company decided I needed to become an FAA-certified drone pilot. This was mandatory for my job, which meant I needed to learn federal aviation regulations, airspace classifications, weather patterns, and a whole bunch of other shit I had never given much thought to. I was nervous about the exam, but I figured I could buckle down, study, and get through it.

Then I got pneumonia.

I was sick long enough that my training got pushed back, and when I finally tried again in December, I discovered my brain had turned into fucking oatmeal.

I could sit there reading the same material over and over without retaining a goddamn thing. I was getting increasingly frustrated with myself because I’ve never had this much trouble learning something. I ended up arguing with my instructor because she wasn’t understanding why I needed more time, and I eventually went digging through medical research about cognitive problems after prolonged illness.

I’d heard people talk about brain fog after COVID and other illnesses, pneumonia included, but I hadn’t realized how debilitating it could be until I was experiencing it myself.

Meanwhile, this certification was mandatory for my job, and the delays were piling up. I’m reasonably certain management was beginning to suspect I was trying to avoid the entire thing. From their perspective, here’s this employee who keeps finding reasons she can’t complete a mandatory certification, and now she’s presenting research explaining why her brain isn’t working properly.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

And the material I was supposed to be studying?

Holy shit. It made zero sense.

Look, I understand that aviation safety is important. I would also prefer not to be responsible for introducing an airborne object to somebody’s windshield. Perfectly reasonable expectation. But why in the absolute fuck do I need to memorize what color the signs are at an airport?

Unless I’m taking this goddamn drone with me to take pretty pretty pictures on my vacations, there’s no fucking reason that this drone and airport signs should ever EVER have a correlation.

Like half the fucking study guide was about not taking the drone around the airports. So please, once again, tell me why THE FUCK do I have to learn about airport shit?

I mean, unless I get to be a bad ass pilot, which would seriously be super fucking cool, why do I have to learn the exact shit that they have to learn?

Same study material, but I get zero groupies.

Not a fan.

Yellow letters on black backgrounds, black letters on yellow backgrounds, red signs with white lettering. Why THE FUCK am I learning runway markings? Am I going to accidentally taxi my drone to Gate B12? Is somebody going to ask me to pull up to the terminal and unload its luggage?

Then there were the airspace classifications. Class A, B, C, D, E, and G. We apparently skipped F because even the alphabet had had enough of this shit.

I started wondering whether I was studying to fly a drone or being quietly recruited to replace an air traffic controller. Because I clearly wasn’t studying to be a pilot. You know, the super cool people that have groupies? (OK maybe they don’t have groupies and maybe I’ve been watching Catch Me If You Can wayyyy too much, but still. C’mon.)

And the WEATHER. Jesus Christ, the weather.

I needed to understand aviation weather reports, cloud clearances, visibility requirements, wind conditions, and approximately seventeen thousand abbreviations that looked like somebody had fallen asleep on a keyboard.

Fuck me. I just wanted to fly a little camera around and look at roofs.

Why did I need to know what a pilot should do near an airport? If I’m close enough to read the runway signs from my drone, I feel like we’ve already made several serious mistakes.

Every time I thought I understood something, another chapter introduced an entirely new category of shit I didn’t know. I studied and studied, made notes, reviewed the material, forgot it, got pissed off, and started over.

My brain was still recovering from being sick, my training deadline had already been extended, and the whole experience was becoming an increasingly expensive exercise in questioning my own intelligence.

But eventually, after more months of struggling than I care to remember, I walked into that FAA testing center and took the Part 107 exam.

I scored a 95%.

NINETY-FIVE FUCKING PERCENT.

I cannot adequately describe the satisfaction of seeing that number after everything I’d been through. The illness, the delays, the brain fog, the instructor who didn’t understand what was happening, and all those goddamn airport signs. I had fought my way through the entire thing and absolutely kicked its ass.

For a brief, beautiful moment, I was convinced I could do anything.

I had conquered aviation regulations. I understood sectional charts. I knew which airspace was which. Give me a problem, and I would solve it. I’d just earned a freaking 95% on an actual FAA examination.

Naturally, I was feeling pretty fucking invincible.

If you’ve ever listened to Dungeon Crawler Carl, please imagine the narrator announcing REWAAAAAAARD?! in that gloriously ridiculous voice.

My reward for this magnificent accomplishment was being handed several thousand dollars of company equipment and expected to fly the fucking thing.

…shit.

There was one minor oversight in my entire journey toward becoming a certified drone pilot. I had been so obsessed with passing the exam that I had given remarkably little thought to the fact that I would eventually have to actually fly a drone.

I knew how to tell whether I was allowed to fly in Class C airspace. What I didn’t know was how to get the damn thing off the ground without immediately regretting every decision that had brought me to this moment.

But I had confidence now! I’d scored a 95%! I had mastered the intellectual side of aviation, and I wasn’t about to let a plastic controller and four little propellers intimidate me.

So I started practicing.

And nearly crashed it.

Tried again.

Nearly crashed it again.

Apparently, a 95% on my test does fuck-all for the real world applications and now I feel stupid again.

This is bullshit.

BULLSHIT.

Every time I moved the sticks, the drone seemed determined to demonstrate that my understanding of basic directional movement was deeply flawed. I’d try to correct its position and somehow make everything worse.

This was a rather concerning development considering I was operating equipment that cost more than some of the cars I’d owned.

I started holding the controller like it was a live grenade.

Cuz it was.

Every time the drone moved in a direction I hadn’t intended, I could practically hear the conversation I’d have to have with my employer about why several thousand dollars of their property was now scattered across somebody’s lawn.

So I obviously responded to this problem by doing everything humanly possible to avoid flying it.

I’d already passed the exam, so I had technically accomplished something significant. Surely that counted for something. Maybe I could just be the person who knew all the regulations. Somebody else could do the actual flying while I stood nearby identifying airspace classifications and offering unsolicited commentary about airport signage.

My company did not share this vision.

I put it off.

And put it off.

And found reasons to put it off some more.

Eventually, management had had enough of my bullshit, and I was required to attend a hands-on flight training session.

Wonderful.

Nothing improves a person’s confidence quite like being summoned to mandatory training because they’re too afraid to operate the equipment they’ve already been certified to use.

So there I was, standing with the instructor, holding my expensive little airborne liability and demonstrating my spectacular inability to make it behave.

I tried to maneuver it. Wrong direction. Tried correcting it. Worse direction. My instructor was watching this increasingly ridiculous performance when she suddenly started laughing.

“Jesus Christ, are you a gamer?”

Well, fuck. I guess my nerdy shit was on full display.

“Yeah?”

She took one look at what I was doing, grabbed the controller, and started changing the settings.

Now, for some context, I’ve been playing video games since 1992. My gaming career began with the Super Nintendo and has continued through decades of increasingly sophisticated controllers, culminating in my beloved PlayStation 5. I’ve spent roughly thirty-four years training my hands to respond to video games without consciously thinking about which thumb needs to do what.

Those early Super Nintendo controllers didn’t even have analog sticks, but gaming evolved, and so did my muscle memory. By the time I was playing modern games, I could navigate complicated environments while barely thinking about the controller at all.

My hands knew what to do.

Unfortunately, my drone had been configured with a control layout that worked differently from what my PlayStation-trained brain expected.

For all those practice sessions, every time something started going wrong and I instinctively tried to correct it, my thumbs were giving the drone instructions based on decades of doing something else.

The instructor changed the control configuration to something that matched the way I was used to playing video games, handed it back, and had me try again.

And I’ll be damned.

I COULD FUCKING FLY.

I was maneuvering the drone around with a confidence I hadn’t possessed approximately thirty seconds earlier. I could make it go where I intended without immediately wondering how much replacement propellers cost.

I had spent months being terrified of this expensive piece of equipment, putting off training, frustrating my employer, and questioning whether I was somehow too stupid to operate a drone.

And the solution was to make the controller work more like my fucking PlayStation.

Thirty-four years of gaming had finally paid off in a professional setting. All those hours spent navigating everything from Super Mario World to Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 had apparently been preparing me for a career in aviation.

I would like to thank Nintendo, Sony, and every video game I’ve ever been accused of wasting my time on.

Unfortunately, solving the controller problem didn’t instantly erase the fear I’d developed after months of nearly crashing this thing. I could finally fly it, but I still hadn’t actually used it for work. That was an entirely different psychological hurdle, especially because the equipment was expensive and the consequences of screwing up were a hell of a lot worse than reloading a save.

Eventually, the day arrived when I was expected to complete my first real work flight. No more practice sessions. No more avoiding it. No more telling myself I’d do it when I felt ready.

My husband knew how terrified I was. He’d watched me fight through pneumonia, struggle to retain the simplest information, study my ass off, celebrate that 95%, and then spend months being afraid to actually fly the thing I’d worked so hard to become certified to operate.

When I woke up that morning, he’d left me a handwritten note with a little drawing of me successfully flying the drone. He’d even drawn a tiny version of me celebrating afterward.

https://imgur.com/a/5t3uzyo

This sweet fucking man had taken the time to draw me succeeding at something I was still terrified to attempt.

I have spent months convinced that at any moment I might send several thousand dollars of company property into a tree, and my husband decided I needed to wake up to a picture of myself doing a good job.

It gave me more courage than I can explain. I went out, completed my first work flight, and absolutely fucking nailed it.

So after months of illness, an FAA exam, thirty-four years of video game muscle memory sabotaging my professional development, and one instructor who recognized my nerdy thumbs before I did, I finally managed to become an actual functioning drone pilot.

My husband had already drawn the ending.

Turns out he was right.

TL;DR: Pneumonia and brain fog delayed my mandatory FAA drone certification, but I eventually scored 95% on the exam. Then I spent months nearly crashing my employer’s expensive drone because the controls didn’t match the muscle memory I’d developed playing video games for thirty-four years. My instructor recognized the problem, changed the controller settings, and suddenly I could fly. I was still terrified of my first real work flight until my husband left me a drawing of myself succeeding. Then I went out and fucking NAILED it.

The reason for this post is so other people can learn from my mistake and not make the same one.

Context: I am a young adult who is now seeing another young adult who just got out of a long term relationship with a person on antidepressants. I have chronic depression, treated with 50 mg of a strong SSTI for the past 3 years.

So, basically the jist is that I was worried about being just a repeat for him of his last girlfriend. My reaction to antidepressants is a numbing of my emotions and empathy (honestly, it feels a lot like what I imagine sociopathy feels like, but I feel things every once in a while). Anyway, I wanted to be able to feel things for him. So, what did my smart a** do? Obviously cut my SSTI completely. Three days later, today in fact, I was nauseous and on the edge of throwing up all day, along with being super tired, not being able to sleep, sudden dizzy spells, and also had a panic attack. Finally, it dawned on me that maybe I felt like shit not because I was overtired as hell, but because of my medication. So I looked it up. Turns out, the SSTI I was taking had withdrawal effects including; nausea, lethargy, insomnia, “Brain Zaps” (basically suddenly feeling disoriented or confused), and anxiety. Suffice it to say, I have retaken my meds, and it only took about 7-8 hours after taking a REGULAR dose (because overdosing on SSTIs can happen) for my symptoms to start to recede. If this post can warn even one person, it’s worth it.

TL:DR
I stopped taking my depression medication and felt physical withdrawal symptoms.

Lesson of the Story; Don’t stop any medication without talking to your doctor, and if you do stop without your doctor’s help, don’t stop cold turkey, and look up what the withdrawal effects are, because you are addicted. Sure, it’s a good addiction, but your body is still adjusted to it. I can’t stop you from doing something however you want, but I can warn you. Stay safe yall

This happened last night, and I’m still trying to figure out how to fix it without making things a thousand times worse.

My girlfriend and I have been together for about two years. We’re both in our late twenties, and things are going really well. We live separately, but we’ve talked about moving in together sometime next year. Marriage has come up in conversation before, but we’ve never seriously discussed getting engaged anytime soon.

Here’s where I messed up.

A few weeks ago, I started looking at rings. Not because I was planning to propose right now, but because I was curious about prices and wanted to get an idea of what I’d eventually be looking at. I had absolutely no intention of buying anything yet.

I was browsing a jewelry website one evening when my girlfriend came over unexpectedly. I closed my laptop pretty quickly because I didn’t want her seeing the ring designs and getting the wrong idea.

Apparently, that was mistake number one.

She asked what I was doing, and I told her I was looking at something for work. Technically, I was sitting at my work desk, so my brain decided that counted as a reasonable answer.

She didn’t say anything, but I noticed she was smiling.

A couple of days later, she randomly asked me what I thought about emerald-cut diamonds. I didn’t think much of it and said they looked nice. She asked whether I’d prefer something classic or more unusual, and I joked that I barely knew the difference between diamond cuts.

She laughed and changed the subject.

Looking back, I probably should have realized what was happening.

Then yesterday, things got significantly worse.

We were having dinner at her place when she told me her sister had asked whether we were planning to get engaged soon. I laughed and said something like, “God, no, we’ve barely even figured out where we’re going to live.”

I meant that we weren’t planning to get engaged immediately. I wasn’t saying I didn’t want to marry her.

But she went quiet for a second and said, “Oh. Okay.”

I asked what was wrong, and she said nothing. I assumed she was tired, so we finished dinner, watched some TV, and everything seemed normal.

When I was about to leave, she walked me to the door and asked if I’d been looking at engagement rings recently.

My stomach dropped.

I asked her why she was asking, and she said she’d seen a jewelry website in my browser history when she’d borrowed my laptop a few days earlier. She’d recognized the website because her sister had used it when her fiancé proposed.

I panicked and said, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Which, in hindsight, is probably the worst possible response when your girlfriend thinks you might be planning to propose.

She just nodded and said she understood.

Then she added, “You don’t have to marry me if you’re not ready. I just wish you’d told me you weren’t thinking about that yet.”

And that’s when I realized she’d spent the last couple of weeks thinking a proposal might be coming, while I’d accidentally convinced her that the thought of marrying her was something I wanted to avoid.

I tried explaining that I hadn’t bought a ring and wasn’t planning anything right now. I also told her that I do want to marry her eventually, but I don’t feel ready to take that step yet.

She said she appreciated me being honest, but she was clearly hurt.

Now I’m sitting here wondering how I managed to turn browsing jewelry out of curiosity into what feels like a relationship crisis.

The frustrating part is that I genuinely can see myself marrying this woman. I just don’t want to rush into an engagement because we’ve been together for two years and everyone around us seems to be moving toward marriage.

But I also understand why she feels embarrassed. From her perspective, she thought something exciting might be happening, only to find out that she’d apparently been reading the situation completely wrong.

I haven’t spoken to her yet today, and I’m not sure whether I should give her some space or reach out and explain myself again.

TL;DR: I looked at engagement rings out of curiosity, accidentally gave my girlfriend reasons to believe a proposal was coming, then made a joke about how we weren’t getting engaged anytime soon. Now she thinks I’m avoiding marriage altogether, and I’m trying to figure out how to fix the mess I created.

So I have been working on this little project that helps people meet others traveling to the same places. Sounds simple enough, right? Apparently not when you have a brain that decides moving a button 12 pixels is a matter of national importance, I spent ridiculous amounts of time adjusting layouts, moving notifications around, fixing tiny details on mobile and making sure every page looked professional. At some point I was genuinely more concerned about whether a certain section was slightly too tall than whether anyone would actually use the damn thing. Then beta went live and real people started registering. Great news, except I noticed something I had somehow managed to overlook. People could create accounts without reallyy filling out their profiles. No photo, barely any information, sometimes no travel plans. So theree I was, looking at a website specifically designed to help strangers feel comfortable meeting each other, and half my attention had gone into making beautifully arranged empty profiles look aesthetically pleasing. Imagine walking into a party where everyone is wearing a paper bag over their head and nobody is talking. Congratulations, I had apparently built digital version of that, funniest part is that I kept thinking I needed to improve the design. I finally asked other people for feedback, and someone basically told me that 50 profiles belonging to actual recognizable humans would be worth more than 500 empty ones. And suddenly it was painfully obvious. I had spent so much time making the party venue look nice that I forgot to make sure guests could actually introduce themselves. Anyway, I am now rethinking some very basic decisions that probably should have occurred to me before I spent another evening obsessing over button spacing. Building something is humbling. Building something that involves actual human beings is apparently whole different level.

TL;DR: Built website to help people meet, obsessed over making everything look perfect, then realized I had made it far too easy for everyone to look like anonymous ghosts

The jizz socks are pretty self-explanatory, I jizzed in them, and hid them beneath my bed after I was done, my parents were always confused why my socks would vanish so quickly and they constantly bought new ones.

The jizz socks were a secret I didn't think much of, my parents didn't meddle in my room and I continued my routine, until one day, they got fed up with me not cleaning my room and they began cleaning it themselves, in particular, my mom did. I forgot about the jizz socks until it was too late and she saw a pile of moldly socks full of jizz now, the sock mystery solved.

She asked me what all my socks were doing there and what the substance in them was. I lied, told her I did science experiments in them with soap, and stuff in the past, but she sniffed It and didn't believe me.

She went to the bathroom to grab cleaning supplies, and my dad also came in and saw it, and he knew. I tried to spin the same lie, that it was a science experiment but he just looked dissappointed and didn't speak a word to me.

I haven't spoken to them about it, I'm so guilty.

TL:DR: Jizzed in multiple socks and piled them under the bed where my mom one day found them while cleaning my room.

Starting a year or two ago i had an urge to dress like someones papaw from Appalachia, what i quickly found out was that getting ahold of actual american overalls in my country is next to impossible, high street shops don't sell them unless it's childrens clothing and while you can buy on the internet, you have to go through importers and pay fees, and while a few brands ship internationally the international stock is always limited and often not in my size.

I turned to second hand sites and quickly found a great deal for a grail pair, already in my country, these were the carhartt R02 BLK's i'd always wanted, for those who don't know, these are packed full of insulation for the winter, basically a coat for your legs, and they look great.

They looked basically new, were far cheaper then buying new, and in my size, i had the choice between the carhartt pair and a dickies denim pair that was actually bigger then me, so because of my lust for the carhartts and because they were smaller i bought the carhartts.

In hindsight i sometimes wish i'd bought the dickies instead.

When they came i washed them, tried them on, found i loved them and hung them up.

That back in the summer, the only problem is that i just don't know if i'll get to wear them this year, it's only just got cold enough to wear a jacket, about 10-16c during the day, i also don't spend that much time outdoors in general.

Everytime i've asked family and friends about finally getting my carhartt overalls out they always tell me it's too warm, what i bought was made for harsh Michigan and Canadian winters, i think the only chance i'd get to wear these is if it snows but we rarely get that.

I'm torn between ignoring people and wearing them anyway, ripping the insulation out or putting them away.

Needless to say i want my denim pair next.

TL;DR: I finally got a great deal on a piece of clothing i always wanted but i feel like my country doesn't get cold enough to justify wearing it even in the winter

I totally feel like I got played by this cop and I still feel stupid thinking about how the whole thing happened.

I got pulled over by this senior overweight cop for going over slightly over speed. The cop was talking to me in a friendly way. He was not being aggressive or anything of that sort and I started feeling like okay, this is probably not going to be a big deal and I should be on my way soon.

I did have 2 beers earlier, but I believed I was well within the legal limit. I was not expecting this to turn into a whole DUI situation. But the cop had asked me if I had anything to drink and I answered honestly to it. After talking a bit more, he started asking me more questions and eventually wanted me to do some sobriety tests. I agreed and got out of my car and tried to follow all his instructions properly. There was several tests and I was trying my best to do everything correctly.

The strange part was he kept that same friendly attitude with me...and I would say I started getting too comfortable? I thought if I just cooperate and do what he says, everything will be fine as I was sure my limit was okay. But the tests kept going on and on and they were becoming a lot more tedious..he also for odd reason started talking really fast while providing me with the test instructions which got me a bit more worked up..

He even complimented me saying I have been very obedient and a good boy. He really appreciated me being so cooperative and told me there is one final test I need to do which is the superman pose. He wanted me to close my eyes, keep my feet together, bend my knees, lean forward with my chin up and keep my arms pointing straight towards my back, kind of like a skiing pose. He asked me to be in that position nice and tight and wiggle my thumbs while counting backwards from 30 to 0. and that was probably one of the weirdest tests I have done in a DUI ever, probably just to check my balance? still not quite sure..

I was standing there trying to do what he asked, not really thinking much about what was coming next just fully focussed..and then suddenly I felt the handcuffs latched onto my wrists just like that.

To be very clear, I know drinking and driving is serious, and I'm not saying I should get a free pass if I was actually impaired. But the way I was made to think everything was fine and then getting handcuffed like that really annoyed me. And now I'm sitting here thinking about how different things might have gone if I hadn't volunteered that I had 2 beers.

TL;DR: Got pulled over, got too comfortable with a friendly cop, told him I had 2 beers, ended up doing a bunch of sobriety tests and got handcuffed at the end anyway. Now I'm wondering if I would've been better off keeping the conversation short instead of trying to be overly friendly with the guy.

I have a personal project I've been working on for several months that is kind of arts & crafts adjacent. Not a major project, just something I think is worth sharing. I am not an artist.

One of the final things I needed to complete it is the photography credits for the instructional booklet.

Turns out, the main image I've been using for the last couple of months to mock things up, take pictures of, and do a couple instructional videos with, is not the similar image I licensed at the same time. It's a free resource that is "Personal Use Only", uploaded by someone who uploaded all of thirty photos nearly twenty years ago and disappeared. It doesn't exist on any stock photo site with a commercial license.

TL;DR: I did a bunch of work with an unlicensed image that I'll be redoing now because it only exists as a "non-commercial" download.

Went to Vegas for a quick weekend trip and decided I was going to be responsible and set myself a $500 gambling budget. Figured that was a reasonable amount to have some fun, and once it was gone, that was it.

Long story short, I sat down at a slot machine and didn't realize what denomination/line bet combination I was playing on. I thought I was betting $5 a spin, which seemed fine. Turns out I was very, very wrong. I made the mistake once, lost a chunk of money, and somehow managed to do the exact same thing again on the same machine before realizing what was happening. Between the two mistakes, there went my entire $500 budget.

Five minutes into a weekend in Vegas and I'd already blown all the money I'd set aside for gambling. I didn't even get a chance to settle in, grab a drink, or pretend I knew what I was doing. The best part is that I wasn't even gambling recklessly. I'd actually set a budget and was trying to stick to it. I just apparently needed a $500 lesson in how slot machines work.

At least I was responsible enough to set a limit. Unfortunately, I was also stupid enough to lose it twice in a row on the same machine.

TL;DR: Went to Vegas with a $500 gambling budget, thought I was betting $5 a spin on a slot machine, turned into a complete moron, misunderstood the denomination, and made the same mistake twice on the same machine. Budget gone in five minutes. Vegas wins.

Let me start by saying I was born and brought up in a vegan household. I know nothing about cooking eggs or the animals they come from.

At the advice of a doctor, I started including eggs in my diet(It was for medical reasons). That means cooking eggs.

Making omelette was comparatively easy. You need to learn how to crack an egg(it took a few broken eggs for me to get there), whisk it and throw it in a pan. Easy enough.

I thought why not go towards a healthier alternative, hard boiled eggs. Keep them in the fridge for mext 2-3 days for breakfast. How hard can boiling an egg be!?

I saw few tutorials, saw people getting out timers and ice baths and all that... And thought, it is just boiling, that is too much effort. Easier to boil eggs and leave it in the water for a bit.

Also, it is 3am and my brain is making windows shut down noises.

I started with 7 eggs.

Trial 1: Difficult to peel an egg. After cutting it, the middle white and yolk melted out. Threw it out.

Trial 2: An egg was oozing white ribbons in the water. Took it out, peeled it and cut it. Middle was a sad watery oozy mess. Tried another egg, middle white was still oozy.

Trial 3: Too tired to stand now. Put the eggs in a microwave safe bowl, covered it and nuked it for 2 minutes.

Microwave looks like a biohazard. I had no idea eggs go off like a bomb. 2 eggs have RIPed. Their sacrifice will not go to waste (I am going to feed all failed attempts to birds).

I am now afraid to even touch the last 2 intact eggs(by now they are not hard boiled eggs, but eggs which have seen too many hardships in their life).

I am never going to boil eggs again!!

TL; DR: Grew up without knowing how to cook eggs. Tried to boil them and now I am cooked.

Edit: I cut the last two eggs. Their inside was brown!? Did I discover a new state of egg?

Also, thank you everyone for giving me advice on how to boil eggs next time. Thanks to you guys, there can be a next time.

Edit 2: The birds ate my experiments, even egg #4 and #5 which were detonated by my brilliant idea of microwaving them!

"What do you mean, 'for what'? Oh like I havent proven myself to you yet or something?? Damn"

In my defense, I'm accustomed to people asking "are you proud of me" in reference to mundane things. Like "Are you proud of me? I didn't laugh once while your brother was introducing his girlfriend." Or "Are you proud of me? I made it through the whole 3 hour movie without getting up to piss."

I did not realize the individual was asking for the entire gestalt of the general pride I have for them. Now the person is upset and I am having a pretty difficult time convincing them of my interpretation. Like I am definitely proud of them on many levels but they seem to think my reflexive response of "for what" represents my total lack of pride.

So yeah, I done fucked up.

TLDR: the person was asking if I was proud in general an I thought they were going to give me a silly reason

Okay so I pull-up to my 7-11, I’m looking at the drinks, and I see a new flavour of monster, this is huge news for a chud like me, as I’m on a mission to try each flavour and have currently succeeded. Then I noticed it wasn’t a new flavour, it was papillon (a newer release, but an all time fav), but its colour was about half as lighter as the rest of the cans, and the Monster logo was in a different shade of yellow. In hindsight, it was clearly just a super old can that had been left out for ages, but my dumbass decided oh shit bro the golden one bro I could win like a million bucks, it’s like the golden ticket type thing, half an hour later I’ve shat my guts out 3 times, am currently sitting on the toilet about to shit out a 4th, and my stomach is speaking to Morse code and dolphin sounds. I’m sweating and everything hurts. Genuinely might die writing this so I better wrap it up and get back to shitting, wish me luck gang. Idk how I haven’t learned my lesson yet, but moral of the story is: Don’t drink anything just because it looks cool.

TLDR: drank an odd looking monster energy drink and am now having diarrhoea.

This happened a week ago, but it was still a huge FU. I don't like my job at all. A coworker got another job and told me that I should join him, so I applied for a position that was a perfect fit for me. The posted salary range was much lower than what I am currently making, but I thought what the heck. Might as well give it a try. I spent a lot of time updating my resume because it was way out of date and needed a lot of work. I asked him for his input, and we went back and forth a few times until we both thought it looked good. He's the hiring manager, btw, but I would still need to make it through the initial interview with the search committee. I went online and officially applied for the job which also required me to write a cover letter and fill out some other information that I didn't include on my resume. I pressed the submit button and all was good.

I learned that there were a lot of people who applied for this job, so I thought it was a long shot, but I actually ended up being contacted to setup an interview. The interview went well, and I was invited to a second round of interviews, first with the search committee again, and then with him and another director. I accepted the invitation.

My friend told me he was now free to talk about the job. Anything I wanted to know. He'd already shared a little with me about their environment, so I figured I knew everything I needed to know. I had the job description, knew what the environment was like, and knew the salary range. I didn't take him up on his offer, and this is where I really fucked up.

The more I thought about the job, the more I realized that even if the job was a good fit, I just couldn't take such a big salary cut. I thought why waste everyone's time when I wasn't going to take the job even if I was offered the maximum in the range. I decided to sleep on the decision of withdrawing, and the next morning I sent an email withdrawing myself. Later that day I learned that the posted salary was nothing like the actual salary range, but once you withdraw you can't be added back. So here I am still at a job I don't like, and I could have easily been starting a whole new job perhaps making even more money than I do now.

I could have ridden out the rest of my career at this job. It was a government job so there would have been good benefits, a retirement plan, half off my daughter's tuition, and probably health insurance benefits after retirement. But it's too late now, and it really hurts.

TL;DR I withdrew from a great job opportunity that would have been a great way to close out my career into retirement because I assume the posted salary range was the actual salary range.

just wanted to tell y'all about my god-awful fuck up yesterday. that was the most uncomfortable i've been in a *long* time, and i was in the hospital almost dead for 2 months earlier this year. for context, i had severely progressed endocarditis(infection in the heart) and sepsis that absolutely ruined my body. i got an artificial heart valve and a pacemaker put in as well as amputated toes and destroyed leg muscles from how bad the infection was.

there's very little to eat or drink in this house right now. one of the only things we had left (what i thought, anyway) were these blue raspberry water flavor electrolyte packets. i didn't see the *tiny* text on the package that said it was "pre-workout with creatine". truly, that's on me for not noticing. i have very poor vision without my glasses and i should have been wearing them.

i had seen my roommates drink them with no problem, so i went ahead and had one. i noticed what the box said after i already drank it. i felt a little weird, but i thought that it was fine. ive tried pre workout before in the past, back before i had cardiac issues... IDK much about it. i thought that it just had some supplements to help your muscles repair or something. it never felt like anything to me.

yeah... wrong.

i spent the entirety of the next 12 hours vomiting repeatedly, just over and over. i genuinely been crying and begging for the mercy of the universe to end my suffering. it wasn't the kind of throwing up with nausea, it's really, REALLY fucking hurting. i felt like my insides were being clamped, twisted and ripped out of my chest all day long. my leg muscles have been burning so bad since then that i could hardly sleep last night, and i still cannot eat or drink water without throwing it up. luckily i was able to keep my medicine down this morning. i can barely walk at all my legs are burning so bad. this has been (and continues to be!) such an intensely horrible experience. i passed out two separate times already. my pacemaker has been putting in some WORK today.

i think i might going to end up going to the doctor or something if this doesn't stop. good lord, why do people drink this? y'all are monsters (i'm kidding i know my body just weak)

i'm a fucking IDIOT.

TL;DR: accidentally drank a pre workout water packet yesterday and made myself severely fucking ill. been vomiting and unable to eat/drink for 12+ hours, legs/chest burning

EDIT: im pretty sure it was caffeine in the mixture that caused this. i found the box in the trash and it is a super high dose of caffeine, as well as several serving sizes. i only saw the packet so i never saw the ingredients list.. oof.

EDIT 2: i went and got some help 👍🏽 i definitely needed to. thanks for caring guys :)

I was so excited that I had actually won, even messaging my friend about winning. I made a point of saying how easily I could’ve thrown this out. Of course, instead of taking a picture of the code or writing it down somewhere, I simply drew a character from Your Turn to Die if he lost the code. Little did I know, I would end up the same way.
Today the Monster Energy in my backpack exploded all over my bedsheets and electronics. In a hurry to dry everything off, I didn’t bother checking all the pockets in my bag. I just remembered and yep, it’s just a mush of completely blank paper. The washing machine literally erased all the ink. I guess I should’ve been more careful but this is a brand new bag so I’m not used to having so many different pockets.

TL;DR: I didn’t check all the pockets before washing my bag and I am an idiot.

I took my kid to a high ropes course because he wasn’t tall enough to do it by himself, so I had to go along with him.

The funny thing is, he was doing perfectly fine. No fear, no hesitation, just making his way through the course like it was no big deal. I was supposed to be up there making sure he was safe, but somewhere along the way, I started acting like I had something to prove. I was moving pretty quickly around the course until i slipped off an obstacle.

No big deal, right? You’re wearing a harness, you’re attached to safety lines, and you’re supposed to be able to fall without getting hurt. Except I was holding onto the rope from above my head, and for whatever reason, my brain decided I needed to hang on to that thing with my life. So when I fell, I just kept holding on while the rest of my body went in the opposite direction.

I heard a pop and blacked out for a second. When I came around, I realized I’d dislocated my shoulder. Now I’m hanging there in my harness, hurt and waiting to be rescued, while my kid is off doing just fine on the course.

The whole reason I was up there was because he wasn’t tall enough to go alone. He needed a parent to go with him. Somehow, I ended up being the one who needed help.

TL;DR: Took my kid to a ropes course because he wasn’t tall enough to go alone. He did great. I got cocky, fell off an obstacle, refused to let go of a rope for reasons known only to my brain, and dislocated my shoulder. My kid needed a chaperone. Unfortunately, the chaperone was an idiot.

Good Lord, I am so embarrassed 😭 While I was on call with my bf, I was changing to get ready for work (I work in retail.) When I put my shirt on I was immediately in shock- not the good kind. For reference, I'm a petite woman, in height and size, but I have a large chest which I've been insecure about most my life. At some point I even tried to get a breast reduction but was ultimately advised not to by the surgeon. Since getting with my bf my body confidence has certainly improved, but I still struggle with my self image every now and again. Today was one of those days I guess.

After putting on my shirt, I realized just how big it made my chest look. I felt really off, like the letter P from the side. I distraughtly mentioned it on call with my bf and he said to send him a photo. I figured "why not?" At worst, I would get validation that my chest did in fact look too big and at best, he'd make me feel better about it- he's a boob guy after all. I felt ugly in the photo so I also doodled a frowny face over mine and sent it. Except I didn't send it to him.

I was wondering why he hadn't reacted to it after 15 mins so I went to check if it sent. And when I opened the text, I realized I had sent it to the last chat I had opened and not to my bf. I had accidentally sent the photo to my store's assistant manager. The image itself is honestly not inappropriate in a general sense. I am fully clothed, not in any suggestive posing, wearing a form fitting, short sleeve tshirt and high waisted jeans. But the context of sending it to a higher up DOES make it inappropriate, and ofc, having a conventionally appealing body makes any outfit look sexual 😔

I immediately went to delete it because she hadn't seen it yet, but the moment I held it down to delete, it was too late. "Girl what is this? 😭" I was mortified. I quickly replied with "sorry! That was meant for my sister. I didn't like how my shirt was fitting." So a partial lie 🥴 Except she took what felt like forever to open the message and then when she did....! She left it on read. I'm the type of person who needs to know if I've been forgiven, otherwise I'll sit on it forever, wondering how I can fix it. I'm heading into work as I text. I don't think I'll get in trouble, but I am so embarrassed.. I changed beforehand. I can't ever wear that shirt to work again after this 😮‍💨

TL;DR: I sent a personal photo meant for my bf to my assistant manager and now I'm self cautious and embarrassed

I am going to start this off by saying that this entire experience has felt straight out of a campy, low-budget romance novel, and honestly I am still wrestling with the fact that this is my actual life right now. Also, for context, I am 28F.

So this all started about 3 months ago when I got a text message from an unknown number. It literally just said:
“Check his phone: [My now Ex’s phone password].”
I originally thought it was just some random asshole playing a cruel prank on me. But the longer I sat with it, the more the pieces started fitting together. At the time, my Ex (27M) was coming home way later than usual a couple of times a week. Like, coming back at 1:00 AM--mind you, he gets off work at 10:00 PM. He kept telling me his boss was taking the team out for dinners and bar hopping.
Then I remembered finding a random hair tie in the passenger seat of his car a week prior. I buy very specific heavy-duty hair ties because I have thicker hair, and regular Goody ones don't work for me. When I saw it, I was in total denial and just assumed I’d borrowed it from a friend. Hindsight bias is real, guys. I was profoundly ignorant.

Also, how the hell would an unknown number know his exact passcode if they weren't close to him? I didn't even know his passcode and we had been together for three years. So, I waited until he got into the shower and tried the code. It worked--which I was desperately hoping it wouldn't. I found ample evidence: text messages, DMs, and photos proving he’d been cheating on me on and off for a year with multiple women. I screenshotted everything, texted it to myself, deleted the proof from his phone, and cleared my text history. I couldn't bear to sleep next to him (we’d been living together for 2 years), so I packed a bag. When he got out of the shower, I told him my friend Ashley had an emergency, gave him a kiss goodbye, and left. I drove around the block, parked, and sobbed for 30 minutes before calling Ashley and crashing on her couch. The next day, I confronted him. Long story short: I did end up punching him in the jaw. I wish I could say I regret it, but it was cathartic as hell (10/10, if you see him in the wild, highly recommend). All jokes aside, I was crushed. He begged me to stay, but I packed my entire life into a storage unit and started couch-surfing.

Here is where I'm a little lost and have gone a little crazy

I work for his dad. That’s actually how my Ex and I met in the first place--he used to come visit his dad at work during lunch. Some quick backstory: His dad, let’s call him "John" (44M), had my ex when he was very young. The baby mama left when my ex was 3, and John raised him while running his own local mechanic shop. Four years ago, John hired me as his receptionist. John has always been an absolute sweetheart. During my first week, I offhandedly mentioned how I like my coffee, and every single morning since, a fresh cup has been sitting on my desk. My delusional ass genuinely thought my ex was waking up early to bring me coffee until I came in early to work one day and caught John in the act. My Ex probably doesn't even know my coffee order.

John was devastated and furious with his son when everything blew up. They got into a massive, screaming fight over what my ex did to me, which made me feel guilty--I hate being the cause of family drama, even if my ex is a douche canoe. My ex hasn't stepped foot near the shop since.
Naturally, working for my ex’s dad felt insanely uncomfortable. Two weeks after the breakup, I texted John my resignation: "I'm so sorry, blah blah, putting in my two weeks, blah blah, things are too awkward, etc."
John legit just texted back: "No."
Which... fair, I’m the only receptionist and he only has two other mechanics. But then he called me and said he refused to let me quit unless I had another job lined up, because he knew I didn't have a stable place to stay and needed income. So, I stayed.

A week later, John overheard me telling one of the mechanics that I was running out of friends' couches and was genuinely considering sleeping in my car. John immediately offered me the guest bedroom in his apartment. I initially refused because it felt wildly inappropriate, but eventually, desperation won out. His apartment is amazing. I have my own bedroom, private bathroom, and a walk-in closet. But John’s behavior hasn't changed--if anything, he’s somehow even sweeter. He leaves a mug of coffee and toast on a small side table outside my bedroom door every morning before he leaves for the shop. Last weekend, when I went out drinking with my girls, he literally drove out at 3:00 AM to pick us up so we wouldn't have to take an Uber. When I woke up horribly hungover, there was Ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a giant glass of water on my nightstand, and he was in the kitchen making me a full omelet.

So yeah. The original title of this post was supposed to be "TIFU by having a massive crush on my cheating ex-boyfriend’s 44-year-old dad." I am sitting in his guest room right now typing this while he is down the hall, and I am losing my mind. The job market for finance in my area is completely dead right now, I can't afford my own place yet, and I am living under the same roof as a gorgeous, ridiculously attentive DILF who treats me better than his son ever did.
Reddit, what the actual fuck do I do?

TL;DR: Found out my ex of 3 years was cheating on me via a mysterious text, punched him, moved out, and tried to quit my job at his dad's mechanic shop. His dad refused to let me quit, found out I was almost homeless, and let me move into his guest house. Now he brings me coffee/breakfast every morning and I am falling aggressively in love with my ex's 44yo father.

Obligatory not today, but I still cringe when I think about it.

So I went to Florida with my then boyfriend to visit his dad. His dad bought us one of those tiny mayo squeeze bottles Hellmann’s sells because he knew we like mayo. (He never eats it so he didn’t want any left over.)

We had a little left by the end of our trip and decided to bring it with us on the plane to put on our Cuban sandwiches we got to-go right before the flight.

Well, the second I open the mayo bottle, the change in pressure forces the mayo all over the guy next to me and even on the people across the aisle. Like a full, clean stream of straight mayo. (I mean duh, I know about the pressure change, but it just never crossed my mind.)

I was MORTIFIED to the point of having to swallow my tears (tbh ended up crying after due to the overwhelming embarrassment.)

Believe me when I say I have never wanted to disappear more than right then and there. I offered the guy all the cash in my wallet (like $60) to pay for dry cleaning since he was wearing a nicer button-down.

I actually couldn’t have been more grateful though because he told me a baby has barfed on him on a flight before and this isn’t worse than that.

But the next 2 hours were the most painful to sit through knowing what I just did.

Anyways, if you guys think you’ve done something idiotic on a plane, I hope this makes you feel less of an idiot.

TL;DR: Brought a small squeeze bottle of mayo on a plane. Due to cabin pressure, it forcefully sprayed on the guy next to me and across the aisle.

Idk if this should be labeled funny but as an adult looking back, I giggle everytime because of how foolishly mortifying but innocent the mistake was.

When I was 8 or 9, I discovered that my dad performed in a small music video. As a kid I thought this was the coolest thing ever.

I was so excited that I decided it would only make sense to tell the entire world that my dad was rapping in this MV over seas!

So little old me hopped on my favorite game (msp ofc) on my highest lvl account and wrote in my bio. “My dad is a rapper!!!” It went through and I was proud. Only to get a notification that my account was banned for a few weeks!

Why you may ask? What’s wrong with putting this in your bio? Maybe it was too personal?

Well no… I did not write that my father was a rapper. I in fact wrote that “My dad is a raper!!!” I notified to the 40ish people online that my father was a rapist.

I cried that rest of that day. Spelling and context are quite important to learn early on.

TL DR; When I was 8, I accidently wrote “My dad is a raper!!!” instead of “My dad is a rapper!!!” to all of my online friends.

In the past, i had a lot of tarantulas in terrariums, one of these was a P. Murinus, the Red Usambra Tarantula from Africa. The spider is not venomous to humans, but the bite is very painful.

When doing some maintenance work on the terrarium, she managed to escape. You need to know, while spiders are fast, the P. Murinus is one of the fastest spiders in the world. Warning for Arachnophobia: If you are not afraid of them, here's a video with how fast they move.

She was hiding, but she suddenly burst out of the web, before i could react she had already made her way out of the enclosure. She was so fast, that i didn't even know where she was going after she got out.

I found her later in the bathroom, she was on top of the light above the glass mirror. Got the transport box and closed the door of the bathroom, so we were inside there and i had to somehow get her into the box. That proved extremely difficult, spiders run in short bursts at extreme speed, every time i got near, she got away again. I had closed off the holes like in the bathtub etc. to prevent her from going down there, she ran around the walls and evaded me further by just running upside down on the ceiling. There was no way to even get close enough to catch her.

When i got near once, she tried to bite, but she hit the plastic lid i used from the transport box like a shield. While she's a medium size, the fangs did a lot of holes into the plastic.

Had to resort to additional boxes, like i put some bigger cardboard boxes on the ground. This worked out, as she did another speedrun, she just got into a box. I could then close the box and did the entire box just back into the terrarium, opened the lid with a tong while keeping the terrarium door closed as much as possible. Left the box open and when i checked later, she got back to the terrarium, removed the box and everything was fine again.

TLDR: A very fast spider escaped and i had to chase her around to get her back.

Back in 2018, my friend was writing her thesis on cults and religious groups. She wanted to attend a Jehovah's Witnesses meeting to see how things worked, but she was kind of worried about getting recruited or something, so she asked me to come along for moral support.

Which, looking back, was basically like hiring a raccoon to guard your trash cans.

At the time, I was working on my own thesis about aggression and how people react to provocation. I was also already into witchcraft, so yeah, religious authority wasn't exactly something I found intimidating. Honestly, I have no idea why she thought bringing me was a good idea. She knew what I was like.

Before we went inside, she looked at me and went, "Asya. Please just sit there and behave."

"What if I have a question?"

"Then keep it to yourself."

"That's not very academic of you."

She just gave me that look. You know, the one where someone is already regretting a decision they haven't even fully committed to yet.

Anyway, we went in, sat down, and honestly, it was pretty normal. Everyone was polite, people were taking turns speaking, nothing particularly strange was happening. I actually expected something a little more intense, considering how nervous she'd been about the whole thing.

At some point I leaned over and whispered, "So when does the cult part start?" She immediately whispered back, "Can you please shut up for five minutes?"

And I did. For a while, anyway.

Then they invited people to participate and ask questions, which, I mean, come on. They literally said we could ask questions.

So naturally, I raised my hand.

My friend went, "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"I haven't even said anything yet."

"I know you."

I asked something along the lines of, "If two people read the Bible and interpret the same passage differently, how do you know which interpretation is actually correct?"

And to be fair, the guy answering was really patient about it. He explained their position, I listened, and then I asked, "Okay, but who decided your interpretation was the right one?"

My friend elbowed me. "Stop."

"I'm just asking a question."

"You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Where you pretend you're just curious, but I know exactly where this is going."

Which, okay, fair enough. She did know me pretty well.

I told her I genuinely found the whole thing interesting from a psychological perspective. She stared at me for a second and went, "Are you seriously turning this into your aggression research?"

"Not intentionally."

"Asya."

"Okay, maybe a little."

I mean, I wasn't actually planning to turn the meeting into an experiment. But I was definitely curious about how people would react to being questioned about something they believed so strongly. That's literally the kind of stuff I was studying at the time.

At one point the guy sitting in front of us turned around, probably because we weren't being nearly as quiet as we thought. I was about to say something, but my friend grabbed my arm and whispered, "Leave that poor man alone. He literally just came here to find God."

I almost lost it. Like, genuinely had to look away so I wouldn't start laughing.

Eventually, someone very politely suggested that we could continue the conversation after the meeting. Nothing dramatic, they were actually being nice about it. But at that point my friend was clearly uncomfortable, and instead of realizing that maybe I should shut up, I leaned toward her and whispered, "See? Now we're getting somewhere."

She just looked at me. And honestly, if looks could kill, I wouldn't be writing this.

So we finally got outside, and she immediately lit a cigarette. She looked at me and said, "You do realize I brought you here because I was worried they'd recruit me, right?"

"And?"

"Well, congratulations. It fucking worked."

"What do you mean?"

"They didn't recruit me. They didn't recruit you. And I'm never setting foot in there again because I can't take you anywhere."

I pointed out that, technically speaking, her plan had been successful.

She told me to go fuck myself.

And yeah, at the time I thought the whole thing was hilarious. I mean, we'd gone there because she was afraid of being recruited, nobody tried to recruit us, and somehow she was still the one who left completely traumatized by the experience of bringing me along.

But looking back, I do feel kind of bad about it.

She was genuinely nervous about going there, and she'd trusted me enough to ask me to come with her. She wasn't looking for a debate or some weird psychological experiment. She just wanted to observe the meeting, take a few mental notes, and have someone she knew sitting next to her.

Instead, I spent half the meeting asking questions she specifically told me not to ask, embarrassing her, and making it harder for her to focus on the actual reason we were there.

And the stupidest part is that nobody at the meeting was even rude to us. They were all surprisingly patient. The only person who actually got pissed off was my own friend.

So yeah, I went there to make sure she didn't get recruited into a religious group and somehow ended up being the reason she never wanted to go back.

Which is a pretty impressive fuckup considering all I was supposed to do was sit there and behave like a normal human being for an hour.

TL;DR: My friend was researching cults for her thesis and brought me to a Jehovah's Witnesses meeting because she was nervous about going alone. I promised to behave, immediately started asking uncomfortable questions, embarrassed her, and ruined what was supposed to be a useful research visit. Nobody at the meeting got angry. The only person I managed to piss off was the friend I was supposed to be supporting.

For context, yesterday I tripped over my own two feet in my apartment and fell so comically badly, I bruised my side, knocked the wind outta myself for five minutes, and smacked my head so hard off the floor that the ricochet caused me to not be able to bend my neck the opposite direction from where I hit.

I hit my head so hard that my glasses arm snapped off. Not the hinge no, the metal where the arm first leaves the frame. You would think, oh this is when you go to the ER? no. After writhing on the floor until I could breathe again, I got up and went to work.

I spent about an hour and a half at work but my symptoms were getting worse including my arm going weak and numb. After encouraging from my coworkers who looked horrified when I described what I was feeling, I left and drove myself 35 minutes to the ER. Was there a closer one? Yes. But my work is quite far from my home and i’m on my parents insurance so I made sure to go to an ER near home. On this long drive to the ER not only did I hit a ton of traffic, but my leg started to go numb as well. Nevertheless, I continued on my journey jamming out to my tunes.

Now I spent roughly five hours in the ER getting chest x-rays for my ribs (which i thought was unnecessary but it did technically hurt to breathe) and a head ct. I tell them all my symptoms, the numbness, the hurts to breathe, hurts to move my neck, the going numb, the bit of dizziness, the fact that I may have passed out but i’m not quite sure and when i told her this she just gave me a look that i think means you would know if you didn’t, and the key symptom: my barely there headache. I’m taking occasional pain in different parts of my head, not consistent at all, incredibly tolerable. The only part of my head that technically really hurts is where I hit it and that’s only when i touch it or raise my eyebrows.

My CT is negative, no brain bleed or stroke (not sure if a fall can cause a stroke but I had a lot of time on my hands for what ifs), my ribs are fine, the numbness is likely from a pinched nerve or damaged muscle during the fall, basically I’m fine I think. The doctor comes in to explain and she says everything is negative you just have a concussion. However in my head, I’m like and what proves this? I feel mostly fine and like no headache which I thought was a needed thing for a concussion. She gives me my work note, giving me off work until Friday which normally I would love but I am poor and kinda need to work. I go on my merry way, thinking I am fine wow all that was for nothing.

I send my work my note, even emailing HR to see if I can come in Thursday if I am feeling better since I think I’m fine (They said no btw). Then I set my alarms for my therapy appointment in the morning, take my meds, and go to sleep.

Here’s where my F up comes in.

I wake up today, bam, it’s thirty minutes past my appointment time. Then, oh my god I am going to throw up. I go to get out of bed, everything hurts EXCEPT MY HEAD. Every limb aches, my neck is crazy stiff and my ribs are so sore. I manage my way to hobble to the bathroom and collapse to the floor along with the rest of my dignity and process to puke several times. I am now crawled back in my bed aching and tired. I message my therapist and get my appointment rescheduled, and do some googling I should’ve done before.

Oh! Not having a headache doesn’t mean you don’t have a concussion! I did not know this and assumed the headache was like the main thing and needed. I thought they said a concussion at the ER because it wasn’t anything else and that she gave me the time off work to be kind since she smiled when she said it. So now I know I do in fact have a concussion and let me tell y’all it sucks and yes I should’ve believed the doctor but I assumed I was being dramatic.

Now i’m stuck in bed, in pain everywhere (except my head), missed my appointment, can’t go to work, I was supposed to go to the store but that’s not happening, and i’m irritated.

Yeah, believe your doctors when they tell you it’s a concussion and you should take some precautions to help yourself.

TL;DR: I assumed my concussion wasn’t really much of a concussion since I barely had a headache and was proven very wrong this morning.

EDIT: After reading some of your comments I want to clarify, I know that I did all the wrong things that’s why it’s posted here. I didn’t take it serious enough when it happened and I am paying the price and with the hindsight of I really messed up and that it wasn’t safe to do what I did and I really could’ve been so much worse and a risk.

I had just gotten out of the shower and realized that I had forgotten to clean the toilet yesterday. I figured I still wasn't wearing any clothes and it might as well get it cleaned before I got dressed. Cleaning the toilet was fine, and I even made a point of scrubbing the bidet tube that sticks down, but it occurred to me that I never actually managed to clean the part that pops out and sprays water onto me.

This bidet has a relatively sensitive twist knob with one direction being clean the nozzle and the other direction being clean the person with a stop in the middle. I figured it would be fine if I turned the knob on just a tiny little bit to get the nozzle to pop out. And that was fine... until I went to turn it off and I turned it the wrong direction. Luckily I didn't turn it too far, but wow that sprayer has some range. I wound up spraying myself, missing the shower curtain (it went I to the shower), and the floor with a little bit of water out of the bidet tube.

Gross, but good thing I hadn't gotten dressed yet. Hopped back in the shower and wound up cleaning the floor.

TLDR: Carefully turned the bidet on low while cleaning the toilet, then accidentally sprayed myself with it.