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I suspect that my mother has intentions that are beyond imagination for my grandmother who is dying of cancer. She abused me severely as a child and was abused by her mother in a more severe way. The difference between my mother and I is that she has a desire to perpetuate that abuse. My grandmother has expressed to me on multiple occasions that my mother has frightened her/coerced her into doing irrational things during a period of time 7 years ago when they lived together. My mother has described the abuse she received as a child from my grandmother as being extremely harsh. My mother has been trying to isolate my grandmother by speaking about her as though she is more sick than she is, lying to her about trying to find her other two sisters, privately begging me not to look for them, telling me to stay away from her, and finally last night she threatened to put a restraining order against me if I attempt to contact either of them. I'm worried for the safety of my grandmother. It's interesting because my grandmother certainly didn't protect me from my mother as a child, but I am genuinely frightened by the potential harm that my mother could inflict of my grandma. I suppose I am sympathizing with the terror I recall from my childhood. There is also a financial factor driving her. My mother abandoned me at 10years old when I made the decision not to help her hide her abuse of me. I was distant because every time I attempted to communicate she would further the abuse. My grandfather, who was my favourite person as a child, shot himself in the face with a shot gun when I was 6 two weeks before Christmas and left no note. He left some 200,000$ to my grandma and that sum has increased as a result of smart investments on the part of my grandma That is allot of money to my mother who has no goals outside of her own indulgence and is someone who claims iq 132 and has spent her life drinking alcohol secretly all day and night while working as a baker at a grocery store complete with endless burn scars all over her arms from 'working so hard' My grandma told me a while ago that she left everything to my mom I wasn't surprised Neither of them invested anything in me after I escaped at 10 with the help of children's aid (CAS) and moved in with my father. I also wasn't disappointed to hear that my grandmother decided that my mother would make better use of the funds than I They have done so little for me and have neglected/abused me so much that I don't really desire a contribution from them to my well being In a way I feel like if they were going to fund my education/integration into society etc they should have done it a while ago (I'm 27 now) Anyway My mother has spoken to me on multiple occasions saying things like 'Your not getting any of the money, grandma left it to me' and begging me not to look for her two sisters because she 'doesn't want to upset' my grandma despite my grandmothers request to be reunited with them. All of her statements seem to be absent of consideration for the fact that our close relative is about to leave earth as we know it, I can't figure out what her intention is. She is already getting all of the money (at age 54) So unfortunately the only reason I can see for her to try to isolate my grandma is that she intends to inflict some weird sociopathic revenge on her. I feel that way because unfortunately my mother has the potential for that kind of deranged mania. I am concerned because I can't imagine a more terrifying hell than being trapped in my mothers clutches and having the government prevent anyone who cares about me to help me escape. I searched online and found nothing helping in terms on steps to take, Just stuff about elder abuse but nothing as extreme as what my mom is capable of. I don't have anyone to advise me, kind of friendless after the election and my dad refuses to hear anything at all about my mom or if her does on occasion listen he ends up telling me he wants nothing to do with it/her. I've got so much going on in my life and I moved to the opposite end of the country What do you think I should do? My first thought was to call my grandma and tell her that my mom told me if I try to contact her that she will put a restraining order against me but that might not go over well I assume my grandmother will suggest we keep our relationship a secret In fact for years my grandmother kept our relationship a secret from my mother because she was 'afraid' that my mom would be upset with her for speaking with me. My second thought was that I need advice because the situation is dangerous and volatile.

How are you other K selections not going into full isolation with so many rs in existence? How do you find more Ks in an r dominated country? Lately the more red pilled I become, the more isolated I get. Are others feeling this way?

For a while now I've been trying to understand and connect with my fear of not having support from others while taking risks. So today I focused on my experience of isolation in the past and how this contributed to believing myself inferior. I tried to connect with this emotionally by writing to myself. I still want more connections in my life and to become more secure in reaching out to others and I believe this is a big reason behind why I want to share this with this community. This is what I wrote: Born and lacking protection. Exposed to many who mock and hurt me. Isolated and disconnected from those who were supposed to be there for me. I shy away from people and remain silent for fear of attack but this does not keep me safe. My silence is seen as weakness, and to most people I am around I now appear as a weak animal expected to be eaten by it's own kind. Often I am left unprotected by the ones who gave me life until they return at an unknown time. I don't want to live in this savage dark prison any longer. Beasts come every time I seek a way out. They mock me, they look at me with disdain, and worst of all they tell me I will always be alone. They tell me it is hopeless that there is no end to this prison. They say that everyone that claims to have left this place and found one better are liars, people who are more wicked and cruel than they. I'm afraid but I don't want to stay. I can feel myself slowly dying. I don't know where to go. People have come for me. I believe they're strong and kind. They show interest in me and best of all they're telling me that they know how to get out. With pride and bitterness they explain to me how far along they are compared to others and that while I am also far behind I have the potential to catch up. I am excited that people believe in me and that I now know the way out, but I am filled with shame for being lesser than they. I soon realize it's not safe for me to show that I am wounded because I'm afraid I'll be abandoned as I was before. They treat the wounded as inferior and do not equally share their lives with me as I do with them. They show little respect for the cautious behavior of one who has been betrayed by their own and left to suffer. They expect immediate vulnerability and trust, and I fear to offer it. I am punished for resistance with implicit threats of what scares me the most, isolation. So I offer my vulnerability, again and again, in hopes that this will bring me closer to them, until the day I'm told that I offered too much. that I need too much, and that I'm just too damaged. Now I realize I'm alone again and that they cannot help me further. The beasts laugh at me and how foolish I was to believe that I might belong with them. I believe what they say is true and can no longer move. The pain is unbearable. The beasts appear more alive and vicious then ever. Over and over one of them repeats how disgusting I am to have clung onto others. This is what they've waited for...they're going to devour me. I do not know if I can keep going or if I should just give up but...I don't want to die. This lack of internal unity eats away at my will, my energy drains and I become starved for anything that will give me energy to move again. Eventually I find what I need, but only crumbs, little bits of strength that I savor. For a moment I can think of nothing else but how sweet the taste. The beasts notice my movement and I see their faces twist into a mix of fear and rage as they realize their job is not done and that they must remain alert. I'm too exhausted to fear any possible attacks. I start to wonder who has left these crumbs behind and why, if they have had so much to eat to have only left so little behind, do they not come not for me. Perhaps they mistake me for one who is already dead and cannot see me among the bodies. I think of the beasts near me and remember the fear I saw in their faces when I began to move. What are they afraid of? What will happen to them if I keep looking for a way out? I look harder at the beasts and notice for the first time that they appear as ghostly figures. I realize that these beasts have never physically attacked me, unlike the ones long ago. Do these beasts even exist? Who do they serve and what is their purpose? Are they creations of my mind? Are they me? Am I no longer stuck in a physical prison but now a mental one? I must answer these questions. If they are me then I want to understand them. To attack them is to attack myself, and to do that is to never be free. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shame on those who mistreat the wounded out of fear of being reminded that they themselves are not free of injury. Praise the brave heroes who get out and are able to face that it was done not without a price. Thanks to all who see strength and not weakness when looking at those who work towards a better life filled with integrity and emotional honesty.

Hey guys, if you are hungry for a good conversation and for connection come join us at The Oasis - a place where FDR listeners and anarchists from all corners of the world come together once a week to hang out together and exchange ideas. Here are a few highlights from one of our weekly meetings where we got together to chat about Trump. You can find the link for joining the group in the description of the video. I hope you'll enjoy listening to this as much as we enjoyed producing it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3EhfTpWAsw

Hello. I have suffered from social alienation most of my life, and have always been surprised by this as I am fairly smart (top 5% SAT/GRE/various others), tall, athletic, etc. I see myself as generally ethical, and am fairly circumspect before acting generally. I did move to an area with a college campus and many social justice warrior types, and had a very difficult time there, but wrote off my social troubles as being due to that. In short, I took a couple years off dating then started again about a year ago, and ran into a series of seemingly disturbed people in short order. The first was a single mother who was very attractive, but it was an odd online arrangement. The thing deteriorated when she mentioned believing in crystals, the color of people's auras, and chakras. I also briefly saw a girl who was a daily pot smoker for the better part of a decade, who had been seeing a physically abusive boyfriend for 5 years who just left a week prior, and to whom she returned to after stating that she was done permanently with him. One question- am I & Stefan being too rigorous about requiring people to be logical? If I honestly had to do it over, I would have ignored these idiosyncrasies as I had previously been totally alone and now am again. To make matters worse, I did not expect to get attached to either, but a week after the second one ended, I suddenly had an 'acute stress reaction,' couldn't sleep for 3 days, and had to get Xanax from a physician, then ended up trying to see her after the xanax reduced the inhibitions at work and had a flurry of punches thrown at me in front of one of the nicer establishments in town, right around the corner from where I lived, and basically had my reputation destroyed as during a couple occasions dating I had a bit of performance anxiety after having taken a year off dating and being a bit nervous. The first girl I messed around with was a socialist and feminist and invited me back to her place after we met at a bar, then invited me into bed, then told her friends that I had been 'sexually aggressive' the next day and threw a tantrum, after being totally normal the next morning and asking for my phone number. The problem worsened as I entered a suicidal depression after being in what I thought was turning into a normal relationship with an empathetic person. People who knew both of us around town would make subtle asides regarding very private things I had shared, attempting to be vulnerable as Stefan suggested. I could see them really getting off on it, and during the girl's explosion she mentioned that I had never meant anything and the whole thing was insincere- girl here is relative- late 20s aren't girl ages (I'm early 30s). Anyway I found Richard Grannon's spartan life coach youtube channel, and it really, in my opinion, saved my life. I had noticed some odd behaviors like the narcissist death stare, and a fit of rage after mildly suggesting that daily drug use was a bad idea (while trying to help someone to be more healthy), and suggesting that while she was very attractive with a bit of regular exercise she could probably be a model or something similar. In any case, Grannon and Stefan had broached the topic of poor relationships being a result of patterning off primary caregivers. Further, my father is largely deaf, and thus was somewhat emotionally distant. My mother is very volatile, and alternates between explosive anger, sulking, criticism, and detachment. The topic of my intelligence was always threatening to both of them, and Grannon pointed out that narcissists can view children as competition to their perfection, which I feel describes my case very well. I was so depressed in middle and high school, until rebelling, that I had dark circles under and around my eyes constantly, would blink frequently, and sometimes would have eyes water uncontrollably. This was totally ignored by them, and if I ever brought it up I would hear about my being lazy and getting Bs instead of As occasionally, how hard they worked, and how my misbehavior was threatening their marriage (I was a total nerd). I sought out assistance from my extended family, people to talk to, and was essentially told that I was being weak, that my parents are great people, and that I'm a bad and weak person. I had developed a drinking problem when originally in college and had a bit of legal trouble after getting in a fight with a group that assaulted me then turned victim when the cops arrived. To make matters worse, the resultant depression aided my making a series of poor financial choices, and losing 2 IT jobs in short succession over the course of the year, which has made my regaining entry into the field difficult. I was advised by a therapist to move closer to family as I was living across the country in an area with no family or friends. Upon returning home, I realized that the reason I had left was that there was nothing to stay for. I am nothing more than a whipping boy for the family's frustrations, and always suspected but now have confirmed that they were looking for an excuse to discard me, which they now have from the financial troubles. I suppose I'm writing to see if anyone has had similar problems. While up there, I had always spoken my mind about FDR-type principles and found myself losing jobs, and friendships or relationships, etc very quickly in a very leftist, SJW-type climate with a state capital and state main campus in the same town, in the very reserved upper midwest, where truth is frowned upon if it causes any social stir. It seems that my attempt to be ethical has met with nothing but trouble. I get the sense, generally, that the ethical are being bred out of the gene pool. I'm fairly physically fit and surf, and always see the attractive women with very seemingly weak types, or ethnic minorities. It's very strange as when I engage people in conversation, with the exception of strong-willed professional types like myself or foreigners, they seem to drift or bolt away, especially females. I almost never see them with people that look like the type of person I am / would want to be- able to stand up straight. I do live in a semi-rural area currently which is essentially a mixture of trust fund beneficiaries, retirees, and a somewhat criminalistic, hyper-aggressive underclass which struggles to serve them. To attempt a question again, why is it that by trying to be decent, I seem to get a reputation as a bad person? I was thoroughly maligned in the last place, utterly vilified. It was so frustrating to work 50-60 hours a week in IT, and be totally hated for being a white male, or not being subservient to every woman or minority- just trying to preserve some basic dignity for myself. Why is it that sociopathic, evil people are so able to manipulate their currency of lies and thoroughly convince others that they are the good, that the people they torture are bad, and do horrible things to people then walk away being praised with no ill consequence? And how do people treat their children so vilely and have no regret for doing so. I was basically suicidal and called them and they were too busy taking a vacation or something to visit. Whenever they have health problems I drop everything I'm doing and fly wherever. The cognitive dissonance is deafening, and I'm stuck here another week or month or so before being able to skip out elsewhere. It's just so incredible to return to where I grew up, invited by family who I ran from, to find the place I grew up in desolate of friends, inhabited largely by strangers with no interest in talking, all the relative opulence of material but none in warmth or friendship, and this constant, petty infighting for women and/or position. It seems so unattractive but pervasive, and I spent so much time thinking I could rise above it but no longer see people as being morally capable of doing so.

In light of Robin Williams' passing and some of the words Stef has put out about Robin's relationships I found myself growing anxious at how Robin might have not learned any social skills and thus why he would find his relationships by the people that were in his proximity. I am quite the same in respect to that example.I tend to isolate myself, and just not be open about how I feel or think or if I'm anxious or scared. Even my friends are not completely in the loop about these things, and I do have a distrust or I should say I don't know how to build trust or what it would look like to begin with. I just started a job and I'm also trying to go through some changed to become more independent from my parents. I've had some therapy but doubting some aspects of my therapist.I guess it would be nice to have people to bounce all of the ideas off of that I have and I need help with but I always find it hard to ask either on her or of other people. I think that my needs should not be met, or that if I try to attempt to meet them through creating relationships I will just never be able to return the favor or never able to do the same in return to another person, or simply who would want to hear this stuff that I am going through. That leads to more isolation. I'm stuck in that mindset so it usually leads to not even attempting and being rejected. Rejection is a whole other basket of anxiety. I'm not sure if I have a specific question besides how can I break this cycle of isolation, and start seeking like-minded people?Part of it has been through going to therapy, but I still feel uncomfortable about the efficacy of my therapist. What Now what now.

I am not sure how to start this. For quite some time now, I have felt ambiguous towards the FDR community. On one hand, I see the community as one of the most beautiful things on this planet, if not the most beautiful. The honest, kind people it is inhabitated by. The flourishing of ideas, the unwavering support to eachother, is beyond words. But, on the other hand, I feel like I am not part of it. That I am alien to it. That my interactions here, from my side, are false, self-serving, vain, evil. Sure, some of it has been self-serving, and yes, some vanity has driven me here. But it isn't core to WHY I am here, it is a sandcastle on a beach, that I am certain of. But, a part of me blows these acts of vanity and self-serving out of porportion, judging me as sinister, as not worthy of being in this community. Although, I think to myself, I am not engaging a whole lot with the community. Is it then really that weird if I don't feel like I am a part of it? And then I realize, after a while, something I have concluded before: I am afraid of trying to connect with people, both in real life and here on the boards. Several factors play into this. For one, I find it hard to empathize with people. Like, sometimes, if I hear of something terrible someone has been through, I feel next to nothing. And I understand that others DO feel something in response to hearing the same thing I am hearing (happens a lot when Stef is talking with callers). And I hear a voice say ''You are a broken human being! Disgusting.'' Based on that, I deduct that I will have a harder time connecting with people, because I cannot fully sympathize with them. Another part of it, is me fearing to talk with people in general. When I think of doing just that, I hear inside myself, that I will not bring anything of worth to the table. That I will waste the other persons time. This is reflected greatly in my life, where I might want to engage in conversation with someone I know or want to get to know, but I do not dare. ''Maybe they are busy, I shouldn't disturb.'' Or, ''If they wanted to talk with me, they'd start talking to me''. Anyway, it really hit me yesternight. I broke down into absolute despair, crying like I have never cried in my life before, for an hour, truly realizing that I want to be part of this community, so badly. But that I feel like I am unable to acomplish it. That either I will keep myself from trying to be a part of the community, or attack myself when I try to be a part of the community. And it was tearing me apart, still is. Because I want it so badly. I connection, real, deep connection, with this community. Because, the people that it is made out of, are so wonderful, so brave, so honest. And I so want to be a part of that. I can feel the tears well up behind my eyes as I am writing this. I want it so much. And the thought of never feeling like I was connected to this oasis of human goodness, going to the grave without having had that, is so grim, is so terrifying. Before, when I have experienced these feelings, heard these thoughts, I have 99% of the time, went into solitude. Tried to find my answers in logic, in books. Numbed the pain with video games, and with embracing the voices telling me that I am broken, that I am forever lost. That strategy, of isolating when feeling isolated, has not worked so far. So that's why, I now reach out, put out my emotional state, my thoughts, and my feelings. Hoping that I can break my loneliness. Something that has crossed my mind, is that ''Maybe I don't know how to connect with people? Maybe I don't speak that language. That I can only connect if others engage me first, that I just know how to be passive and reactionary?'' I don't know whether this is true or not. The title just came to me. Yesternight, in my despair, something came to me: Maybe, I am having a Simon the boxer experience, but instead of boxing, I am isolating myself from others? It makes some sense to me. For 10 years of my life, from the age 6 to 16, I was bullied, both verbally and physically, but mostly verbally. From age 10, I started to actively avoid people. I worked hard to make as little noise as possible, to avoid being noticed by bullies. And home was my sanctuary, where I was free from school-bullies, free to numb the pain with hours upon hours of video games. But no connection. My mom was, and still is, a selfish, cruel, sadistic, evil women, who'd make fun of me, make fun of my preferences, and yell at me. And my father, he acted as if I didn't exist. Unless he felt like I needed to be put to work, because he thought In was lazy. I have known, for all of my existence, there has been only one thing that has been a constant for my father: That he has always, always been a disapointment to him. That I have always failed him. it's always been there, in the background, in his eyes and in his voice. I noticed that I didn't describe my feelings for my father as I did with my mother. Or, rather, the truth about who he is. I don't know why. Maybe I am still chained to him emotionally in some way, because the words don't seem to come as easy to me when I am writing about him. I am sorry if this post is confusing. I am, myself, feeling all over the place while I am writing this. If you have made it this far, thank you. Really. It's a lot of text. I hope that this can set me on the path of understanding this part of my being. If you feel that I have missed an obvious important point/connection/contradiction, whatever it might be, please, feel free to be as honest with me as you possibly can. This is me, breaking my emotional isolation.

Hi, this is my first post on the board, and have been listening to FDR since Stef first did the Joe Rogan podcast back in September. I’ve gained a lot from it so far, but I think its been made clear to me that the road ahead is a life long ride so I’m strapped in but right now I’ve got a flat and a spare with no tire iron or jack. I’m feeling very anxious as I’m writing this, and a little nervous. WHOO, here goes nothing… My name is Louis, I’m 20 years old, currently living in northern San Diego, CA, USA. I moved here just 13 months ago from Staten Island, New York, where I was born and raised. I moved to California with my Mom, Stepdad, a mutual friend of theirs, and my girlfriend who had been living with me in my mom’s house for 2 years before the move. California was my mom and stepdad’s plan since I was little. He’s a screenplay writer so the move was a step so he can have more opportunities. Right before moving, my mom expressed she no longer felt in love with my step dad, who had been in my life since I was 3, and felt that it would not change. While making the move, we drove in an RV and currently live in it, they didn't sleep together, and upon arrival, she began sleeping in the same bed as the mutual friend. (I guess not so mutual). This drove my stepdad crazy, every night they slept in the same bed together 2 feet away from him. He expressed his discomfort and anger in this situation but it did not matter, after 2 months he had gotten his own place. This stirred me up a lot, it still does. It was clear what was going to happen the whole time, just not explicitly , and until then I just didn’t want to except it. I expressed my sadness about the situation with my mother when she had approached me while my stepdad was away before he had moved out of the RV, with the option of my girlfriend and myself moving into an apartment with her and her new bedmate. That was when it was made explicitly clear to me that my stepdad and her were over and she was indeed going to be with this guy. Who I had known since I was about 5. Obviously the move with them did not take place. But when we had that interaction, I cried as I wanted to ask her how she could be so heartless, such a monster, so wrong, but I couldn't ask her that. I said I didn't want to just abandon my stepfather in the RV, especially where we are living is very far from anything. I can’t remember what I said but I tried to express how I felt, and I can only remember her yelling and tearing, “What about how I feel?!” I went silent, I didn't realize at the time but the whole interaction was all too familiar. She had said that she felt not in love with him for nearly 5 years, but didn't know it herself, and once she realized she did what she wanted to “feel happy” cause thats all she’s ever wanted, and yeah maybe it wasn't pretty but now she’s happy. She has since gotten a DUI and is without a license and probably the most miserable I’ve ever seen her. But I can never tell, she’s impossible to read, every time I see her I feel like she is mad at me, or she’s got something to say and just won’t. Thats one half, maybe the smaller half in my mind for now. But not irrelevant, as the big one is around my Bio-Dad. Before I moved out here, I worked with him doing construction for 2 years after I graduated high school. He knew my mom and step dad were moving but not that I was planning to go with them, I put off telling him for 6 months, and then a month before, I told him, with my girlfriend present. I could not initiate the conversation towards that topic, so we sat at the table awkwardly, until late when I gave the okay for my girlfriend to start. She went with “Mr.B, we have something we would like to talk with you about.” My heart was pounding the entire time, and I was fighting back sweat, and shaking. He took it okay. If it was what I wanted to do then he was happy, I suppose. It was all there but I didn't want to see it then, but I wanted so desperately to take this chance to move to California so I can get away from him. I see it now. All of it for what it is, abuse. My dad has always been a yeller, some would call it short-fuzed, others just an asshole. He's always been one for violence. He always told me stories of him getting into fights at school, or into trouble in school, and then my grandfather beating the shit out of him all the time; always with the caveat that he was BAD. My grandma would call it “Fresh”. I don't know who told me but I was once told that my dad once drowned kittens in a sewer. And boy oh boy does he love his beer. My parents married young, had me at 19(both of them), and separated when I was young, (about a year), but didn't get divorced until right before my mom remarried, some 7-8 years later. My mom had full custody of me but I always went back and forth until I was 16, then I stayed only at my mom’s. I’m my mother’s only child, but my dad, had a girl with a woman he was dating and proposed to, but turned him down, when I was 6. My sister’s mom was no longer living with us about 2 years later, and when I was 11 my dad introduced me to, lets call her Rita, a woman he once dated in high school and left for my mom. Rita had a son (9 at the time) from a man who ran out on her and denied paternity when she was 18. My dad moved them in with me and my sister about 2 months after the meeting, and married her all alone in Jamaica 4 months after that. They would go on to build a custom house together, and when I was 15 they had a baby girl, and my dad legally adapted her son, then when I was 17 they had another girl. After Rita lost her job after having the first child, they started to struggle, so after the second child was born, they were looking to sell the house they just built. It sold and we moved the last of their stuff out of that house and into the new one, the morning before Hurricane Sandy hit Staten Island. My dad would sometimes brag about his power over us by saying things like ‘when me and my sister would start to get out of line all he had to do was look at us and we knew’. I have many vivid memories of my dad hitting my first little sister and beating our dog. I always remember there being a hole in the wall somewhere that my dad made with his fist, even before my sister was born. Before I moved and knew better, I know he was doing the same to my 2 youngest sisters, then 4 and 2. But I know it has been going on as since they were less than a year. This caused me look at my early childhood where there’s really not a lot of memory before 5-6, so I talked with my mom. She left him because of the way he is, with his temper, so I asked about being spanked, she says he spanked me as early as 8 months old, but she insisted that she wasn't as worried about that as she was his verbal abuse, and rages. She admitted that she also spanked me but she said specifically 8 times. When I asked her, ‘You won in the legal system, 100%, why did you not take me away from him if you left because he was violent?’ Her response haunts me, “Well you really looked up to him at the time this was going on, and wanted to still see him, he was your dad, and when I grew up hating everyone who took me away from my parents, I just knew whatever I experienced I wanted to be opposite for you.” Now the older girl just turned 5 yesterday, and the other turned 3, 2 months before. And I know they are experiencing all the same kind of trauma that I have, living with my dad, they might have it worse considering the mother. I recently asked my oldest sister about how often has she seen my dad, hit, push, grab, slap, spank, or anything violent towards, either of the 2 youngest, her response was about twice a day. And I already know that the verbal aggression and abuse is constant. I also asked my stepbrother but in the context of, my sister says twice a day, would you agree? He said “at least from what I SEE.” I desperately want to confront my father on this issue but the fear level for me is so overwhelming. Ive spoken to him all of maybe 6 times in the year that I've been living in CA, but the last time, I tried to RTR him but couldn't speak it and I needed to get it out, so I texted him, explaining that I have fear around talking with him honestly and openly. Needless to say he didn't get it, but left with the good old, “You know I love you, when you're ready, I’ll be here.” I know this is long, so to anyone who’s read this far, I am truly thankful, and if anyone can offer up any comments, questions, advise, or criticisms, would all be helpful here. I would also like to acknowledge that this post as my very first may come on as very strong, but that would be why it is so lengthy. Thank You anyone and everyone, Louis

Whoops. I've always had the habit, for some reason always tried to avoid it-- but BOY does it do the trick. I've had a rough go of things these past five years, I've always battled crushing depression and anxiety. I live with my mom again and sister-- I thought it would help, but my emotions have gotten worse in the wake of being avoided my my own "family". Mom is always with her boyfriend, and I don't think my sister even knows I exist even though we live in the same place. Fuck this. This isolation has been my life for as long as I remember, the beginning Spring breezes remind me of the all the pain in the past, my pain now-- fuck this. I'm angry, I feel like a ghost, I don't know what I did wrong to these people. I hate them in a way, but can't go anywhere right now-- I'm jobless. Fuck this, fuck ME.

Hello all-- I hope this message finds you all well. This is my first serious post on this forum, the topic is an effort to externalize events that have been very close to my heart, as well as my lifelong effort in search for truth in spite of the plethora of "blinders" that have been installed on the chariot of my mind for the sake of my father's emotional comfort. To start my name is Matthew, aged 22, African American. I have lived in Columbus Ohio all of my life, and currently a struggling (REALLY struggling) musician. I play the violin, forte in avant-garde music and deconstruction. I mention this because it's indicative of how my mind works: to harness logic to render a given subject down to it's purest expression, or to unveil its objective Truth. I believe that it is this drive that led me into the many religious traditions I've learned about and practiced, as well as my final leaving of the concept of creator all together. Like most, I was raised in a Christian household. If my father was not reprimanding me as a small child, he spoke of his religious philosophy ad nauseum. I naturally was extremely inquisitive, and the first occupation I wanted to be was a scientist-- I really LOVE to learn. I learned very early not to question the words of my father, not for any threat of violence ( though that did occur) but because I really seemed to cause harm to him personally when I ever questioned him, and he would disassociate himself from me for some time. I would rather a beating than to be alone. I remember one time I asked him if I could have a dog (I was around 3), and he said "maybe". I was ELATED, he didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either, so "maybe" in my head was obviously more positive than "no", so if I was a good boy, "maybe" I could sway the verdict to "yes!" someday. Time passed, and he said nothing of it-- maybe he forgot? I reminded him, asking again. "Maybe" in his light tone again, but I was a bit more skeptical this time. I kept asking, and got the same answer; now "maybe" was getting pretty annoying, and I started to just want a straight answer. One day I asked him again, and he said "maybe" where I quickly responded "so maybe means no right? Every time you say maybe I don't get anything." I'll never forget the look on his face, he was genuinely shocked speechless, probably because I didn't talk very much at time and the information I had gathered from my observations were pretty concise for a 3 year old. My mom was present at the time and instantly started cracking up, bellowing "He really gotcha there Mark, whatcha gonna say to that?". I saw him lower his head and narrow his eyes(tense) with unmistakable disdain, avoiding eye contact with me. I made the silent choice then to never do that again, I never wanted to hurt my Dad. Needless to say, he stopped talking to me for some time which was really painful to me, especially since I was alone for most of the day anyway. Later on, Dad would speak to me about religion A LOT. Not only did he believe in his doctrine, but believed he had performed many miracles himself! As a kid this captured my imagination, and really inspired me to study religion with all I had --"Maybe" then I could control my universe as well? He spoke on glossolalia (tongues), prophecy, hinted on Revelations, and the spiritual sight (the seeing of demons and angels) along with all the usual indoctrination. This particular instance of which I am about describe I'm sure has sealed my fate, and realization of my own "atheism" (for lack of better words). Around the age of 9 or 10, My Father would randomly take me to the side to solidify my "belief". Shortly after this series of lectures I under immense emotional strain and fear of damnation decided to be baptized. Back then he was still much taller than me, and I remember him casting a shadow over my face as he laid out his huge, bulky fists in front of me. "Choose" he would say in a deep voice "Choose, your fate, choose your master, life or death, good or bad, God... or Satan." The air was tense, I felt the fate of being held in the balance. My father's eyes were indifferent, though I knew what choice he'd rather me take. Naturally I chose "God", and he'd smile and walk away-- phew! This happened a few more times (didn't I just save my soul yesterday?), until he took me aside to the living room to introduce me to the point of SUBMISSION. The television was off, the lights dimmed (or they seemed to be). That familiar sense of tension was in the air, Father paced back and forth in front the broken fireplace. He spoke in a low, grave tone and started to elucidate the virtue of unconditional surrender, it's eternal imperative of a "true" christian for a couple hours. As usual, I simply did not possess the attention span to follow everything he said, and I started to feel quite frustrated and scared-- was I missing something? This is cosmic knowledge here and my flesh is simply too weak to withstand the divine logos! He asked me finally, "Imagine you are before the Lord, Christ at his right hand-- how would you greet him?" I smiled and bent my knees-- "NO. You need to be on your face." or something to that effect. It took awhile, but I finally got groveling down. Father smiled and left, leaving me completely overwhelmed, but relieved. I want to express my journey to atheism because I have an annoying need to share my true thoughts, but the journey is simply too long to put in a single post. I would love to see what you guys on here think about this so far, if there are any thoughts you would like to add. Thank you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVL7Kl99bW0&feature=youtu.be

I'm writing to inquire if I'm in a healthy place or even on the right path. After reading UPB, RTR, and On Truth, I embarked on listening to podcasts. After 100+ (which I know isn't many), I decided to take action and embark on an exploration of my IFS. Upon doing so, I quickly became disinterested in many things around me. I no longer want to watch movies or documentaries, music can make me extremely emotional, and other than being around co-workers during a work day, there is no social life. I should mention that this timeframe saw the end of a 2 ½ year relationship with my boyfriend. I'm not seeing a therapist, as this isn't something I can financially afford right now, so I'm trying to do this on my own. However, my fear is that I've slipped into a state of depression. I first felt this might be the case, when I kept having this recurring thought that there isn't any point in trying to socialize, as it would be a waste of time since most people around me in my daily round are ghosts. Is it normal to isolate one's self while in this process?

My life is a mess. I’ve been cleaning for three years. I have one problem that I want to bring up. I’m 21 years old I go to a community college. My family structure my whole life has been a mess. I live with my mother and father but I rarely talk to them. When I get home I isolate myself, all I do is study or read. I even eat in my room. I once read that when a mother indirectly shows a child that he or she isn’t important. The child picks it up and usually ends up isolating themselves. When the child isolates itself he or she is saying let me live please. This makes sense because my mother always put stranger’s needs before mine since I was 4 years old. To a discussing level. When I read that on Healing the Shame that Binds You, I broke down crying. So, since I’m 21 I wanted advice on moving out. How do people maintain jobs and an education? I currently have a 3.8 gpa in school, I pretty much study all day. My major is computer science. I can’t imagine myself working and going to school. I had a part time job before right after high school for a little less than a year. I worked at an electronics store. Technically I could drop out of school and work two minimum wage jobs and rent an apartment. I don’t understand how people do it? How do people like Stef move out so young and thrive? I struggle and work hard every day. I ride my bike 20 miles to school. My parents don’t really help me much besides food and shelter. I’m trapped in a jail sail, please help.