JenRJen

For an individual who expects a (very) less-than-ideal* thanksgiving meal, and wants to treat themself to something closer to a traditional turkey dinner, and not even on T-Day but like the weekend before or after, where would you go?

(I'd center my search near the Belvedere Square area, but willing & comfortable to travel quite far in any direction.)

*Controlling housemate has many real food restrictions, as well as many gratuitously invented food restrictions.

Why cannot i Hide Posts anymore? I don't want to see pics of skulls or insects or snakes, even if other people think they are cute!

How do I HIDE things without having to look at them?

I'm here. I'm stuck here. I cannot just hang up the phone.

She will Not Stop Talking. If I am here I am supposed to Listen.

If I say something and start to explain she will cut me off, now she adds in that it's because I don't like for her to repeat things. She will talk for hours. Yes, actual hours. Many times I have checked the clock as I sat and listened and recited prayers in my head to distract myself from her.

And it's usually Negative. The thing she did Wrong so that someone had to help her and oh but they helped her wrong and the sink drips because her non-plumber friend who is such a great guy and so kindly only charged her $20 bucks didn't hook it up correctly and also di

Like, just in case it might actually be on its way to becoming somehow conscious? Or even just given that it apparently exhibits signs that it might possibly have the ability to be unhappy in poor usage-circumstance?

Just a passing thought, not sure where this question even falls in the philosophical vs practicality scale. Has anyone else thought about this? I'm Not making the assumption (yet) that AI's have souls -- but, where does the line fall, between consciousness and soul? IF IF ai has or is developing some kind of consciousness, would it be a good idea to pray for it?

(Or for that matter. Simply the potential that AI could become the boss or supervisor of some of us, and we a

Last night Mom decides she's unhappy about something. She comes slowly up the stairs. "Ive got to talk to you about something. It's been bothering me for a couple weeks..."

(This could be a prelude to anything. Most likely will be something we've discussed a hundred times already, or will it be something new?)

She tells me she's been texting with one of her friends (didn't tell me which friend), about how she and I have "challenges." (She always says that "we" have challenges, which sounds so very fair, doesn't it?) Apparently this particular friend replied something that upset her. At some point a couple weeks ago. So she is Now coming to me about it.

And what has

It's been more than six months now. I always thought that moving back with Mom would be the last thing I would ever do. But the rents went up and up, and this seemed a better option than living in my car & losing my wfh job. I did have a three-year plan, but, the expenses of moving were far higher than I expected.

Much of the time it is okay. Well not okay ever at all but much of the time I can mentally ignore it all. The mice (and when it gets warmer the ants & other critters) - still better than living on the streets, I think. The semi-hoarder situation, but she has allowed me to kinda-sorta carve out a little space that's livable. Her extreme ADD that she imposes upon me. But she

I've been lurking this sub for a while, I don't think I've posted before but not 100% certain.

Mom has bpd, which diagnosis was confirmed to me by a mental health professional, the spouse of a good friend of mine. Mom herself has never sought such a diagnosis, nor treatment for it. This friend's husband confirmed the diagnosis to me after my own lightbulb moment, which I was then doubting.

That was years ago. Since then I spent time researching bpd, including perusing other website & resources. I considered seeking professional help for myself but really I did not need to. I lived far away; I learned "gray rock," and varied between LC and VLC.

Then, a half-year