Lancaster funeral home franklinton nc obituaries

Hi. This is probably going to be long, so forgive me.
My father passed away recently. Respectfully, this was not a shock. My father was an alcoholic basically my entire life, drinking upwards of an entire case of beer a night. This obviously led to numerous medical problems, and we were eventually told that my father had damaged his body so much that, even if he completely stopped drinking, he would only have around 10 years to live. It was hard to cope with this reality for everyone, but we had to accept it.
When he died, I wasn't there. I live in a different state, and am in college, so it was difficult knowing that he was passing away and that I couldn't be there. Luckily, I was able to see him about a week before he was hospitalized. After his death, his wife told me the news. I was absolutely devastated, but again, we knew this was coming. Didn't make it any better though.
While on the phone, his wife told me they would wait to arrange a funeral until I was able to come home and attend (he was cremated, so there wasn't exactly a time limit). I immediately arranged to travel home as soon as possible, and I arrived home a few days ago (about a week after he died).
Well, almost as soon as I arrived, his wife asked to speak with me. She informed me that my father had specifically asked that I perform his eulogy at the funeral. I rejected, and here's why.
My father and I did not get along at all during my youth. His alcoholism made him a monster. We would always fight and scream and yell at eachother for hours. He would always say I was "just like my mom" (who he hated), and would insult me and her right in front of my face. Eventually, this constant arguing blew up when he decided to kick me out of his house. He told me to pack my shit, go to my mom's, and never come back. So, I did. We went no contact for about four years. During this NC period was whenever he was told about his medical problems.
After he was told he had a clock on his life, we got back in contact. He expressed he was sorry for the way he treated me, and I forgave him. Honestly, things were pretty good between us leading up to his death.
So, here's the problem. His wife tried to convince me, but after repeated refusals, she started hounding on me. Calling me selfish and a horrible daughter for not granting my father's dying wish. But I just can't do it. I can't stand up in front of my family and tell them how wonderful my father was to me because, well, he wasn't. I can't pretend like our entire relationship was happy and fun and amazing because, again, it just wasn't. There are no happy stories. No "he supported me as a child". Nothing. I can't act like he didn't do it to himself. I know it's what he wanted, but it just wouldn't feel right.
So, AITA for refusing to do the eulogy?

After I (35) confronted my mother (55) about her abuse of me, I went no contact with her. Shortly after, her husband died under suspicious circumstances.
Her husband was a little over 20 years older than her and had dementia and alzheimer's. I had talked her into getting a home health nurse several times to help provide care because it was very obvious that she was not. She inevitability came up with reasons to fire each one and she made a big deal out of it every time. Without the care he needed, her husband continued to deteriorate and I wound up reporting for elder abuse, but nothing ever came of it. I really, really regret not pushing harder.
I had a sit-down with her a couple of years ago to talk about all the medical abuse she put me through as a child and an adult and confronted her about munchausen and munchausen by proxy. It went about as well as one would expect and she became super dodgy and passive aggressive with me after that, but maintained communication. However, it got to a point where I no longer found the relationship worth maintaining and went no-contact. After that, things escalated extremely quickly and very severely with her committing several state and federal crimes in attempt to get back at me for cutting contact with her. I have since moved (no one knows my address), do not own a phone, and have no contact with any members of either side of my family.
During the time she was escalating her lashing out and while I was moving, her husband died, and I know that she killed him. He had one of the most storied lives that I'd ever heard and his obituary is two sentence long. This is it, in it's entirety, with identifiers changed: "John Doe, age, passed away on Day, Month Date, Year. He was born on Month Date, Year, to Jack and Jill Smith in City, STATE. John is survived by his wife My Mom." He was cremated, which was against his wishes, and there was no funeral service or memorial. There are also things like how he had money set aside for donations that didn't get donated but that's not the point.
The last time I saw my mom's husband, I was at her house. He was wearing clothes that were extremely dirty and way too big on him due to weight loss. His hair and beard were unkempt where he used to always shave and get haircuts. It was also very clear that he hadn't been bathed in a very long time like on the scale of months. My mom and her roommate were constantly getting on to him for his pants falling down (talking about how they didn't want to see his body and how gross it was) or dropping cigarette ash/food crumbs on himself and making too much noise. It's like they were watching him just to catch him doing something they didn't like so they could scold him about it. I noticed that he didn't speak at all while I was there beyond a mumbled greeting when I came in. At one point I went to the bathroom and there was poop all over the toilet and sink and around that whole general area. I went to grab cleaning supplies hoping my mom wouldn't notice but she did. She all but physically rubbed his face in it like a shitty dog owner trying to housebreak a puppy. She was angrily chiding and shaming him like he did it on purpose to make her life even harder taking care of him. I left and went to the nearest health and senior services center and again reported what happened and what I saw and made several follow up calls, but I don't know if they ever even did anything.
On the outside, she presented herself as loving her husband and that she was a warrior sticking by the side of and taking on the care of someone with dementia and alzheimer's. Her whole thing was that she wasn't going to be like other people that put their loved ones in care facilities when things get tough. She's better than that.
I don't know if she did some of the same things to him as she did to me like the poisoning and inducing illness, but it's beyond clear that she neglected and berated him and got pleasure from seeing him deteriorate. I'm not entirely sure what happened with the exact circumstances of his death, but he was so frail from the abuse at that point that I assume either her or her and her roommate went too far with some sort of torture while they were all keyed up from doing shit to me that she/they wound up killing him either accidentally or intentionally. I didn't witness the act, but I know that she killed him.
One of the details that's always stuck out to me as strange is that, months after his death, my partner got a text from my mom telling them to pass on the message 'I thought you should know that "John" died'. No further information, no details, just 'my husband died'.
This has been weighing on me because I could have done more to stop it. I knew she was abusing her husband and I didn't get him out of there. I'm not saying this so someone can give me a hug and tell me I tried, I say it because I genuinely don't know why I didn't do more. I don't like the psychological implications there. I'm terrified of becoming something like her. My mom killed her husband, but I feel like I let it happen. I feel an immense amount of guilt but I also recognize that my mother is a monster and is the one that perpetrated these acts. It's a lot of complicated feelings and they're all bad. I almost feel ashamed of how much I let the trauma I carry from a life lived with her control me, because she at least never successfully killed me. I don't know. I don't know what to do with this.

Please feel free to correct me if any details are wrong. I literally whipped this up at work this morning. Also worth noting, some info was featured on the "extra footage" episode of the reunion on Peacock, the Call Her Daddy podcast Ariana was on, WWHL and VPR episodes. And lastly, anytime "Tom" is used, assume I'm talking about Sandoval.
Edit: watching again for the 3rd time and added a couple dates I missed and made a couple corrections.
Dec 2021 - James and Raquel call off their engagement.
Beginning of 2022 - Tom tells Andy during 1:1 this is around the time he starts having feelings for Raquel. 🧐 🤨
Mid April (at Coachella) – Allegedly, Tom tells Raquel that he and Ariana are in an open relationship. Raquel tells others, and it gets back to Scheana, who tells us this at the reunion. Rumors start swirling that Raquel and “Tom” were seen kissing at Coachella. It’s assumed to be Schwartz, but little did we know. 😠
Sometime in July – Schwartz tells us at the reunion Tom confided to him that he and Ariana are having problems. He's setting the narrative.
Aug 2 – Ariana’s Dog Charlotte passes away :(
Aug 3 – Guys night at the Mondrian hotel. Raquel and Charlie show up after leaving the girls trip.
Aug 4 – Schwartz tells us at the reunion that Tom told him he confided into Raquel about his relationship problems with Ariana and they had an "intimate moment”.
Aug 9 - After filming wrapped at “C-U-N-Tuesday” a bunch went to the Abby and that’s the night they had sex. Tom tells Andy this during his 1:1.
Aug 13 - Tom and Ariana host a pool party where Tom defends Raquel against Lala
Aug 23 – Scheana’s wedding in Mexico (Schwartz and Raquel kissed) Tom caught in footage smacking Raquel’s ass. There are rumors Tom and Raquel were seen making out in the hotel.
Aug 31 – Schwartz tells us at the reunion that’s when he finds out about the “one night stand” between Tom and Raquel. Says Tom blamed alcohol and it absolutely won’t happen again.
Sept 2 – Lala’s birthday – Katie tells Tom that Ally saw him and Raquel at the Abby “enjoying” each other.
Sept 5 – Ariana’s Grandmother dies (according to the obituary)
Sept 5 – Labor Day cook out in LA, Raquel is also in attendance. Tom says he “couldn’t get a Lyft” back home to Ariana while others confirmed Lyfts and Ubers were in and out of there all day long.
Sept 12 – Raquel’s B-day, she buys the Lightning Bolt necklace for herself around this time. Also Glamping trip. This is also when Schwartz confirmed at the reunion he was including Tom when he mentioned Raquel having a type of going after men that are taken.
Sept 16-18 Life is Beautiful festival in Las Vegas – Pictures shown of Raquel on Tom’s shoulders. Tom tells Andy at the reunion this is when the affair “amped up”. (Ariana was in attendance.)
Sept 19 - Raquel’s Instagram post from life is beautiful featuring her wearing the lightning bolt necklace. Captioned “It’s giving Harley Quinn falls in love with the joker vibes ⚡️”
Sept 24 – Ariana’s Grandmoms funeral. Ariana flies to Florida twice this month to be with family. Unclear what those dates were.
Sept - While Ariana is home in FL, Ken Todd drops the mother of all gossip bombs. “I can’t believe, that Tom Zandaville had Raquel, over, when Ariana’s away, in the ju… jacuzzi as well. AND SHE STAYED ALL NIGHT, YEAH?!”
Sept sometime - Tom tells show runner in unaired footage that he feels guilty he’s not sharing his issues on the show and thought it was unfair to the rest of the cast. Again, laying the groundwork.
Oct 14-16 Bravocon – Raquel shows up in TomTom hoodie. Schwartz tells Katie that Raquel isn’t there for him. 👀
Oct 31 – Tom dresses up as Raquel for Halloween
December – Tom takes Raquel home to STL for Christmas.
January - Scheana says she has a convo with Ariana and she said she and Tom are in a good place. Communication and intimacy were good.
January 2023 – Big Bear trip with Schwartz, Jo, Tom, and Raquel – Ariana was not invited. Schwartz claimed he did not know about the affair at this time.
“Mid/late Jan” – Tom tells us at the reunion that’s when he told Schwartz about the affair. Neither can get their stories straight however.
Feb 8 – Both Toms on WWHL. Schwartz is extremely nervous. Tom acts very composed and laid back. (Meanwhile, Raquel is in their hotel room based on info Ariana shared on the CHD podcast)
Feb 14 – Valentine’s Day, Ariana and Tom go to V-day dinner, Tom gifts her flowers. Fight all night about their relationship. (Details provided by Ariana on CHD podcast)
Feb 28- Tom records him and Raquel fapping to each other on Facetime at Schwartz’s apartment.
Mar 1 – Scheana & Raquel are guests on WWHL. Raquel calls Sandoval the “hotter Tom”. Ariana finds out about affair by looking in Tom’s phone in a bathroom stall at Tom Tom restaurant.
Mar 2 – Affair made public by TMZ.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part of my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to my home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, told me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

I (F28) lost my grandfather on my mother's side on May 9th.The whole family came up for the funeral and to support my grandmother who is absolutely devastated.
About my close family: my parents divorced 5 years ago after Mom (F56) cheated on Dad (M56) with Dad's former best friend (M61), whom I consider now my stepdad and will call SD here. I also have a sister (F32). My parents are NC since the divorce.
My grandfather's funeral took place 10 days after his passing, which was way too long for our grieving process but it couldn't be helped. I tried to be there for the family but after coming in 2 days in a row and everyone being extremely emotional, i decided to stay home (i live close by).
My sister and i called my dad to let him know of my grandfather's passing, he was sympathetic and sent a card to my grandmother (he hadn't talked to her since the separation with my mom). When she got it, my grandmother called him crying and he gave her advice regarding the "paperwork" that needs to be done, such as notifying all organisms of the passing (insurance, banks, etc). My SD didn't like my Dad interfering and had a fight with Mom about it.
Cue to last night, 3 days after the funeral. Dad called to check up on me, and asked if the "paperwork" had been done. I said i had no idea because i had no involvement in it. He gave me a list of things to check and said i should pass on the message to my grandmother.
As grandma is struggling, i decided to call my mom first. Mom has the habit to put me on speaker when i call, so that SD can hear too. I explained what Dad told me and asked if everything was all good and done, to which my mom said yes, but SD lost it. He was very upset and sounded aggressive, saying that everything had been done 8 days ago, that it was a bit late to worry about it now (some papers are time-sensitive) and that it was disrespectful to ask about it now when my uncles worked so hard on it (my mom said SD also helped). I stayed calm and explained that i was just checking, that it was a good thing that it was all done, then asked about the appointment at the notary's my grandmother has this week. Again, SD got upset and said that some papers need to be given to the notary, that it's the law and i should know better. My mom tried to defuse the tension and change the subject, and we ended the call shortly after that.
It's the 2nd time since my grandfather's passing that SD gets mad because of things related to my dad. The first time was a misunderstanding and i apologised for it, but this time i am upset. I wasn't trying to diminish anyone's hard work, i truly didn't know anything and given that everyone has been very emotional ever since, i wouldn't have been fazed if not everything had been done yet: everyone deals with grief the best they can right?
So Reddit, AITA for asking about my grandfather's "paperwork" after the funeral?

I think I'm a first time poster (if not, it's been awhile), so here goes:
My sister has cats 4 of them, all cute at times Deadly at others 🐱
I recently went NC with my mom (again) after a failed effort of having VLC through texts. She's just so unwell that I was starting to get unwell again myself. I don't regret the decision, but what was nice about the VLC was that I had more access to my extended family. She's like the queen of the family and whether or not it's true, I feel like she grants me access to them. When I go NC I feel nervous and ashamed to reach out to them, and downright anxious to go to anything that my mom might be at. I had recently reconnected with my aunt, who was in a nursing home. I had been visiting with her and this was such a bright spot in my life. I was looking forward to having a close connection with a family member. Unfortunately, she died last week. Her funeral is today. In my heart I want to be there. I loved her so much and her energy was pure love. In reality, if I go, I will have to contend with my mom, who will be running the show. I will either need to sit with her and pretend to be a happy family, or sit away from her and have her staring daggers at me the whole time. I want to honor my aunt and it would be nice to see some cousins I haven't seen in long time, but the idea of coming face to face with my mom makes me seriously sick. Anyone else been in a similar situation? Any and all advice is welcome.

I’ve never had to plan a funeral or anything before. Idk how to do it. I just got a call from the coroner that I wish I never had to deal with. Idk what to do. He asked me which funeral home I want to use, I’m not really sure. I don’t have a lot of money so … not looking for anything extravagant. I think I just want to get home cremated, plant a tree in his honor. I’ll have to figure it out. Just want to know if there’s any I should avoid, or if there’s any that is better than others. Etc. Thank you

I hope this is the correct sub for this, if not, kidly direct me to the right one. Now, let me start by saying, I have no knowledge in dream reading, multi universes or quantum mortality/immortality. I've only heard about it, maybe read an article about it, but I want to hear your thoughts on this...
I was having this dream and in it, I was driving home w a friend in her truck, it was night time. We were talking, catching up. I was in the passenger seat and she was driving. All of a sudden while I'm talking to her, I start panicking. I can see the road but I can see another layer, like im in another place, but I can still see where I am. In this other layer, im focusing in and out of it, like I'm im the car w my friend and Im also in this other place. What I see is I'm in a crowd during the day, Im with some person and we're downtown. We round a corner and hear shots being fired. Its a long stretch of road with businesses and more people. Everyone starts running and I see the shooter pointing down the direction where I am. I start running and screaming, "No, no, no no! Run" When I'm screaming I'm screaming in the car again w my friend in the original setting. I can see her driving, but I also see this street where Im running in a crowd full of people from this shooter. She starts freaking out and trying to talk to me, she asked what's going on and Im still screaming, "Its a shooter its happening, run, run!" And Im saying this as im sobbing and choking through my words. So Im in the crowd again, all the while I can hear my friend screaming asking whats wrong and it gets muffled out. I am north of the shooter and I am able to run around the shooter in the crowd and he begins to turn and shoot west where I just went w the crowd. I keep looking back as I run to make sure he isn't running or walking with/towards the crowd. He stays standing in the same place and I can see him shooting into the crown. I make it south of him then he begins to turn south and shoots. This time I keep looking forward. I can see the street w people, but I can also see myself in my friends car. I hear the shots go off behind me and people screaming even louder around me I look back, see him shoot, I turn my head as im running to look forward. Then I feel a burning in my neck. In that split second, I'm back in the car w my friend and I just slump over dead! Everything went black and in that moment I opened my eyes in real life and Im at home on the couch...
When everything goes black I see flashes of a funeral, news articles, my obituary, my friend screaming in the car, her driving to the hospital, the date Oct 20th (😱) and I can FEEL heartbreak, sadness, sorrow, all in a split second before my eyes flew open and I actually woke up...Usually if I have an intense dream I'll wake suddenly sometimes crying, hyperventalating, sad, still scared... but nothing? Even if I dream about getting cut or stabbed or something crazy, there is usually a lingering sensation when I wake. I even expected my neck to hurt when I woke, but nothing...
Maybe being in a dream state my psyche was able to tap into this other universe?? The emotions of the crowd and myself were so intense that it took over and I was able to "be" in these two parallel places?... I've always been open to the unexplained and I've heard a handful of stories similar to mine on podcasts or other places, this is very interesting to me, especially the fact that I saw a date. I also saw street names but I've tried google maps and there is no place where these two streets are in the same place? The streets were Research and Brackenridge, unsure of "street", "Lane", "Avenue", etc.. Now I do live in Austin Tx and we have these streets, but theyre in no way similar or near each other like they were in this other setting I experienced.
Anyways, let me know your thoughts! I appreciate any feedback! also did I flair this correctly? So much unsure-ness.

Sorry for the long post, tl;dr at the bottom
So I (24F) have this friend Annie (26F) that has been using me as a venting buddy for ages. I typically don't mind as I'm used to being the one people come to for advice since my secondary days. However this friend has honestly worn me out.
For instance: she is forever talking about her older brother (35M) and all the stuff he used to get away with as a kid, how he's a serial cheater and used her best friends in college as notch posts (her words exactly), has cheated on his current wife with her (Annie's) recently deceased best friend, is a deadbeat dad to at lest 2 kids that we know of, and is just all around a bad person. She then will bring up his step kid and how she would do everything for him but that her brother has poisoned him against her and made it so that he doesn't reach out and has a twisted view of her.
To her credit, I did meet them at her wedding and they are very much the people she described. Narcissistic, pathological liars, and money hungry. The brother even tried to flirt with one of her married bridesmaids (since he left the wife at home) saying he was an international lawyer even though he couldn’t back it up.
Annie for about a year has been complaining repeatedly about her sibling and his family, so I asked her the question, are you looking for advice or do you just need an open ear? She specifically said she wanted my advice as she wants to reconcile with her brother so, I told her to try and have a sit down conversation over the phone or through some kind of virtual service and see if they could find where the divide started and to maybe try virtual therapy with him since they are across the country from each other. She said ok, thanks, that was good advice.
3 weeks go by and she calls me saying that the talk went terribly and that she needed those 3 weeks to come to the conclusion that she no longer wants a relationship with that side of her family and she is going NC with them. I asked her if she was sure that was the route she wanted to take because 1. They are all each other has as both of their parents have since passed, and 2. if she changed her mind later it would be hard to try and reconcile that relationship especially when it's already so piss poor. She said she was 100% sure so I went over to her house and we spent the night binging on Domino's pizza and purging any and all contacts, messages, dms, social media, etc. that her family had access to so that she could start a new leaf. For the better part of 3 months I comforted her and made sure to be an ear whenever she needed it. That was February.
Now it’s almost June and she's been texting me about how she's been in contact with her family again. Except they only keep asking her for money for various ventures (MLMs, rent, school supplies, vacay money, you name it) and for the most she has been sending them this money. But then she rants to me at her house about how they ONLY ask her for money and don't engage with her about anything else. So once again she asked me for advice and I asked her if she's sure because I don't want to hurt her feelings or make her feel uncomfortable if she feels being able to talk to me is a safe space. She replied say (and I quote,) "Yes, I want your raw feeling and advice about all this bs, don't sugar coat it. Lay it on me straight."
So I said, "I think you first need therapy to work through these feelings you have of always needing acceptance from people who do nothing but try to hinder and hurt. Logically it makes no sense for you to keep trying for a relationship with people who only see you as their personal ATM and they have proven throughout the years that’s all they see you as. Because where were they when you caught COVID twice and were out of work for 3 months? Where were they when your mother died? Asking you when the will reading was going to be and what did they do when they found out you were the executor and got the larger share? Call you bitch and selfish for not thinking about their kid (the kid in question is a grown man) and demanded that you give them a portion so that they could build a house that they wouldn't even have been able to afford the upkeep for. They didn't even show up for your fathers funeral but still expected you to fix up the house that was willed to you and then give it to their adult son as a baby shower gift. They have proven that your existence only matters when they are getting something out of it. So why do you keep touching the eye of the stove after you keep burning your hand? You're gonna get to the point where you've burnt off too much and then you're gonna be the one suffering. Not them. It's time to prune some bushes so that flower can grow."
And she did NOT like that at all. Her response was that I'm unsupportive and that I don't know what it is like, and that I need to understand that they are gonna be a part of her life so I need to get with the program.
I was literally stunned because were these not the same people who left her in the hospital and asked me about HER will? To which she responded that things change but couldn't tell me what exactly changed except that it was her decision and I needed to live with it. So I said fine, ok. If you want to pursue some kind of relationship with your sibling and his family, that is your prerogative. But it is also my prerogative to not engage with this anymore. Don't come to me for advice or for venting anymore because, for any other issue you need to go to a licensed professional. I told her that for the last 2 years I have let her use me as her personal therapist but that ends today and that I mentally just don't have the bandwidth to deal with it anymore, especially when you don't even take the advice given. You're entitled to your opinion and advice isn't a command request. But you literally do the exact opposite of the advice given, advice that you actually agree to commit to. I told her that I love her but I'm gonna need some space from her.
Since then she has been blasting me on social media and to our mutual friends. Our friends are kind of split. Some think that she can be mentally draining especially when everything ends up turning into a story about why she hates her brother so they don’t blame for putting an end to it but the others are saying that she needs some kind of voice of reason and I shouldn't cut off that connection to her. So AITA?
tl;dr: Friend has a brother and family that she has bad history and uses me as a venting person. She asks for advice and then eventually goes NC with them only to get back in contact with them and only be used as an ATM. I give her my personal thoughts on it after she asks and she calls me unsupportive, so I tell her to stop venting to me and asking me for advice and that I need space from her.

Advice...family's drama ahead:
My cousin cut off his mother (my aunt) from contact months ago; she's an elderly woman and had sent numerous people in the family some monetary gifts. Cousin was VERY upset and he turned off her cell phone, home phone. He was expecting a hefty inheritance and didnt want anything leaving the house. He had recently got power of attorney over her.
She had in the past help pay for my degree and promised to help pay my kids college too... and I knew eventually he would change her will if he found out.
No one in the extended family could contact her either, even our family in Europe couldnt reach her. My dad (her brother) called the non-emergency police line to do a wellness check up, and then he got sent a letter from an attorney to never contact her son or her again.
Obviously everyone is concerned, my aunt was a busy-body and loved to chat with everyone for hours daily, before the cut off my cousin had even taken away Christmas and church, she wasn't allowed to decorate or celebrate. (She was a super-religious Catholic). Which she would complain about often to my mother. My mom had thoughts that the cousin would drop off the aunt in a nursing home and move on with his life. She calls around in the city in AZ (We're in FL)and the first nursing home answers with "We're not allowed to to let anyone speak with her on family's orders." So we assume she's there, my mom sends her flowers in April for her birthday.
My dad, worried about his only sister... calls her church today, whom she used to be VERY involved in. Church tells my dad she passed away May 2nd.
We're obviously heart broken to have found out like this. I've checked obituaries, the family funeral plot... and I can't find any information. I just want peace of mind, that she passed.
What do I do?
TLDR: cousin cuts off wealthy aunt from family, doesn't notify anyone she's passed.

I went NC with my nmom in November of 2020. Since then she has made multiple attempts to get in contact with me. I have her and her husband blocked on everything and I have limited contact with the only child she has still living at home (she has gone through this child to get to me and to do shitty things to me). I live in a different state over 3 hours away from her so I haven't had an issue as I don't visit where she lives. Well her grandmother and my great grandmother passed away and the funeral is next Tuesday. I'm going to the service, to pay respects to my amazing grandma but I know my nmom will be there. I'm nervous, sick to my stomach actually. I know it's a funeral but I think she will try and say something to me or try to start something with me because she is crazy. Any advice?

The letter comes the week after your funeral. I only notice it because of the hand written description of The bereaved Wife.
The envelope contains no note of sympathy, instead a Polaroid and an article that looks like a newspaper clipping. Both the photo and article are aged, yellowing and curling at the edges, but the picture itself is clear, just are the words on the newspaper. “Husband and wife perish in house fire: Two bodies have been recovered from a house on Jingle street, where a fire broke out around 9pm last night. It is not confirmed yet, but the bodies are believed to be that of Charles and Debbie Fosher. Neighbour’s are helping police with their enquiries and at this stage the fire is not deemed as suspicious.”
The photo in the newspaper article is the same photo as the Polaroid, it shows a young man in a suit and tie, standing tall and proud next to a raven haired young bride. They are smiling at the camera, and I can imagine them saying cheese! In union, as the photographer clicked the camera and captured the image. The man is my husband, but the wife is not me.
I have never seen the raven haired girl before and my husband had never mentioned being married before, let alone being dead and coming back to life under a different name. I log onto your computer and search for your obituary notice, but not the one I wrote for you, the one for Charles, who you were before me.
Until now, despite it all, I believed this was all wrong, but I began to truly remember the beginning. It was so early on in our relationship, you were living with your roommate and I was in the city. We spent weekends together at my place, your preference as you told me your room mate was dodgy. I didn’t mind, I liked having you to myself.
On valentines day you told me you were interning overseas for three months, it meant your dream job. We celebrated with sizzling bottles of cheap champagne. You came home at the start of April, you had been hurt in a mugging and were scratched up. I remember seeing the gouges that ran deep on your arms, the nasty bump on your forehead and that was when I realized I loved you. I’d felt sick at the thought of loosing you.
Your camera, which held all of your travel photographs, and your backpack with your ID had been stolen, so you had to get everything new. You’d dropped out of the internship, moving in with me to my small city apartment, after your room mate had gone missing with your share of the rent and not so much as a note.
Three weeks ago you died in a car crash.
You were unrecognizable because of the impact, only identifiable by your wedding ring. I hear a floorboard squeak behind me.
I’m not alone.

Well folks I don't get a chance to post on here much, but I always enjoy reading through when I can. Reddit helped me through many of the tough days in the early part of my separation and I always be thankful. So, if you have some time to read and you can handle a mini novel then pop yourselves some popcorn and prepare for a wild ride. I want to tell you about the time I almost died, this is my story.
I'll start with a bit of history. I met my soon to be ex-wife when I was 22 and she was just 20, this year I will be 38. We separated about 6 months before I turned 37. I was a kid that thought he was a man back then. In those days I made a living dealing marijuana and actually believed I was going to end up some mighty kingpin...but that's a story for another day. We will call my ex... poison in this story to protect the names of the...well just to protect names. So, I actually linked up with poison on Myspace... I used to browse through and add different people that I really did not know and at that age it seemed to be an excellent way to meet women. So, one day when browsing through I saw poisons profile and I recognized her face although we did not hang out in the same circle. I messaged her the first time and did not get a reply so if I remember correctly, I circled back a month later and this time she responded. I was absolutely infatuated...poison was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. So, I worked hard to get her to start spending time with me which was not a fun ride...she knew she was pretty, and she was the kind of girl that if you messaged her at 1pm..you might get a response by 1 am. I stayed persistent though but eventually tired of the games and went my separate ways. I had other women that were interested at the time and so on my way I went. As soon as I did...poison suddenly was interested. Turns out, she had been seeing a much older fellow and he had cheated on her. Apparently, she thought the relationship was more than it was and to him...it wasn't. So she came around and we started seeing each other.
From the very beginning we did not mesh well, after all we were both still kids and still immature. However, poison got pregnant with our first son 6 months into our relationship, and this was not by accident. We were literally sex and I told her I wanted her to have my baby. Truth be told the relationship would likely have never made it a year had this not happened, but it did, and the relationship turned into 14 years...of hell. When poison got pregnant, we continued to have our issues and at one point she told me she was going to get an abortion. This devasted me as I was raised with the silly impression that you stayed with who you had kids with forever and I could not bear the thought of her doing that to our child. I told her to never speak to me again and we broke up. A month or so later she reached out and let me know she was keeping the baby. We got back together and stayed the course. Our first child was born 2 1/2 months early and so every day we drove to the hospital to see him as they would not let him come home until his due date. We actually bonded a bit through this. Our sweet boy finally came home and shortly after we got our own place (I was still living with my parents when we met). So we got our own place and I made sure she and the baby had everything they ever wanted but I had no clue how to be a father and was often "out running the roads". I admit there were other women...I was a drug dealer and an immature kid that thought he was a man. It's still no excuse and I absolutely can't stand men who try to justify things like that in my older age. We continued to fight over petty things and we would verbally attack each other. I was quite strong minded back then and would only put up with so much before I told her she could go stay with her father. So, we went back in forth in a toxic cycle regularly for years and years. Eventually my pipe dreams came to an end & I got busted...not once but twice. These were no small charges either and were in two separate counties. At that time the baby was two and I had developed quite a regular drinking problem...yes friends...find money and so shall you find your addictions. So, we packed up and left our little trailer in exchange for a spooky old plantation house in the middle of nowhere my parents offered. I had actually grown up in this home and it had been vacant for over decade. The house was in terrible shape and the heating and air system was not working either, but our choices were limited. My ex did not want to go and politely told her that was fine, but I was as I had no other place to live.
In the end she followed me and there we were...out in the middle of nowhere. During this period, I was very much depressed and began drinking more. I learned a valuable lesson about life and who my freinds were as all all those people who bought their pot from me for a decade seemed to...magically be gone. This was one of the hardest things mentally I had ever gone through in my life. I took a job at a local chicken plant at one point deboning thighs, and I would stand in that line and think of all the cars, the money and the lifestyle that had left me behind... I thought to myself many times...my how the mighty have fallen. So back to the story, we continued to not get along and she left me a few times, one time even moving out of the house and taking the stove and refrigerator as well as actually trying to take my food. Those days were hard. As the saying goes...what does not break you...makes you. I decided it was time to grow up, I had made up my mind I was done with marijuana business and I was mart enough to see I could stop while i was ahead and lose the battle but when the ware or I could keep rolling and lose everything and then watch some other man raise my son. I made the decision to be a Dad and for the first time in my life I thought of someone other than me... I will never ever regret that. I slacked my drinking and began self-teaching myself how to repair computers. I crack a smile even now thinking of those early days because I had no clue what I was doing but I sure was hungry for a life change. At one point I repaired some computers at a local salvage yard and was offered a job. I was eager for anything although I knew nothing about cars but basic things like how to change oil. Regardless I took the job and fast forward 6 1/2 years later, I was damn near running the place. Shortly after I took the auto salvage job poison came back and at times things went well. I still would go out after work from time to time and drink with my friends, but it got less and less till I finally just stopped all together. My running around days were all but behind me as well.
Poison and I had discussed having a second child several times over the years but either one or both of us was never quite on the same page. Alas the last time we discussed it, it was me that really wanted a second child and she let me know she did not. I told her I had never planned to have one child and maybe after all we had been through, we should just end the relationship since we clearly had different needs. She gave me an ultimatum that we had to get married if I wanted another baby so thus the wedding planning began. We had a beautiful wedding surrounded by snakes... I'm joking but seriously most of those people I don't even talk to anymore and did turn out to be not so great. So, we got married and shortly after our second son was born. This child was born 2 months early and we were finally told the reason our children were being born early was due to a defect in poisons uterus. Had we known this when the first child was born, we likely would not have had a second child, but God does work in mysterious ways. So, our little bundle of joy was born and its really interesting to look back as the first child came home in the back of a Chevrolet Cavalier and the second in the back of a Cadillac STS. Yes friends, many changes over those 9 years as I had polished my IT skills and my journey with the auto salvage yard came to an end. I was hired on at Apple initially as a tech support agent but by the end of my term there I was training agents on how to support every line of business.
The young wild me had long grown up and my drinking had dwindled down to a consistent two beers a day which was usually all I could muster before wanting to fall asleep (still too much if you ask me but we'll get there). My relationship with Poison had become predictable. We no longer screamed and hollered, I no longer ran the roads, I had built a real career and she had her own career, none of us ever wanted for anything. However, our old arguing days had turned to silence...we would have these contests to see who could go the longest giving the other the silent treatment which always resulted in me saying i was sorry first when 95% of the time it was something she had done to cause the "arguing" to begin with. I however had grown to love poison very much. I longed for us to be close but no matter how hard I reached she just got even more distant. I asked on many occasions if she was seeing someone else to which I was always met with no... I would never do that to you except for once when she looked me right in the eye and said...If I really were and you were me...would you tell you? This should have been one of millions of red flags, but I had become so comfortable with the mental abuse that I had in fact lost myself. I had developed the most horrible panic and anxiety. It was so bad I had stopped sleeping upstairs with her for quite some time. the panic took form in traveling for some reason...I could not get on highways or major interstates...it was horrible. I tried to fight it a few times and it resulted in me completely embarrassing myself in front of poison. Here I was...this guy that had always been tough as nails...a man's man like his father before... and he couldn't even drive on a highway. It was the worst thing I had ever experienced. I went from the most confident guy you ever met to a dried-up shell...I was always in pain. I looked everywhere for the source of my dismay but to no avail. I could not even go to the dentist office or get routine blood work done... there were times I did not even want to live anymore. I was not a fan of medication, and the panic would not even let me go that route, so I was just stuck...in hell. In the meantime, poison started becoming more withdrawn than ever, she often barely spoke to me. Our sex life went to nearly nothing and she told "women her age" did not want to have sex (she was 32 through 34 during this time). She stayed in her phone and often would go to bed at 9pm. She also started wanting to go do "girls' nights" every other weekend. I had long not been a controlling man and she reminded me of things I did when i was young every chance she got so I felt very guilty and thought a good man would allow her to have as much freedom as she liked. I was not the kind of guy to go through a phone or follow her around... I had grown to believe poison was loyal to me even if she didn't treat me well. So off she would go and show back up after midnight.
Eventually I begin fighting back against the panic and started seeing a therapist. Initially I told the lady all about my drug dealing days and my childhood...everything but how toxic the relationship with poison was. Instead, I told her about all the things I bought for poison, how beautiful I thought she was and how much I loved her until one day it all came out. We were fighting and she had become so withdrawn...she never cared when I was upset...all I wanted her to do was care but no matter how hard I tried she just wouldn't. I was no spring chicken, and my age and experience told me she was seeing someone else, but I refused to believe it and she of course denied it. Finally, one day I looked through her phone and saw nearly 100 friend requests on Facebook pending from men. Poison and I may have fought when we were young, but I used to pride myself in the fact that she always told me everything...or at least I thought she did. It was at that point I begin to realize there was something more.
Finally, one day after one of our usual "silent treatment weeks" I came home and told poison something had to change. I told her that as much as I loved her it was killing me to feel alone all the time. That was when she looked me in my face and told me she had already signed the lease for an apartment. She told me she had debated on telling me but that in 3 weeks she was moving out. I was crushed. 14 years together and it was all over. I did not think about how toxic it was or even how sick I had become...all I could think was how bad I was going to miss my babies. I told poison I respected her decision, and I would like to take the time to work on us. I asked her to go to therapy with me which she was reluctant to do but did I agree. I understood her feelings as we had been back and forth a ton when we were younger and never really did get along 100% consistently. Things had changed though and like I said above...I had grown to love poison even though she downed me constantly. Once she said...you should gain some weight, so you look like a real man. I thought of the younger me...the tough guy...the confident guy...that guy would have gone absolutely ballistic and packed her shit right there and right then...but not this guy...this new guy was broken. He just said yeah whatever and held his head down.
So as the time came closer for poison to move, we did go to our first therapy appointment. poison let the lady know she was moving and made me out to be a complete monster...I didn't even try to tell my side... I did not want this lady to know how poison talked to me day in and out... I did not want her to know everything... I did not want her to hate her. So, I took the blame. I confessed my love for this person who was ripping my heart out and at one point the therapist asked me to go outside, walk around the office and yell I love you into each window. The manly man that was almost dead inside me thought...that's some sucker shit but I got up, went out, and I did it... yelled it at the top of my lungs into each window. Then came the day shortly after Easter that poison moved. She must have called 3 or 4 times that Friday...back then I thought it was because she was nervous about the move but looking back, I have another idea now what it was & we'll get to that. I went to work that day knowing my house would be quiet when I got home...no little voices...no noise from my oldest son upstairs...just me and the 4 walls. I had called my mother a week before that and just bawled like a child at 36 years old about how bad I was going to miss my babies. But I worked on, and poison kept calling. I took all her calls, and I was kind. That night when I got off work, I had already made plans to get completely wasted with a friend...after all it was the least, I could do for my bleeding heart. I got a text about quitting time from poison telling me she was going to go to the hospital...that she had a horrible hemorrhoid. I called and told her to stay put and I went by Walgreens and bought the best medicine's I could find. I also went got dinner for her and our boys and delivered it. I stayed and ate and after that I left and did exactly what the days plan had entailed... got completely loaded. Drove home at 3am and fell asleep forgetting that no one would be there when I woke up but me.
Poison and I continued speaking and "supposedly seeing each other". She would go to church with me each Sunday and we would have sex afterwards. She went to another therapy session but i noticed more than the first time she seemed really uncomfortable. I brushed it off and we had dinner that night. Not long after that my oldest son told me of a conversation poison had with her new neighbor. A very good-looking gentleman to whom she went to school with the conversation was nothing special, but the story poison had told me was much different. This upset me, I thought why she would lie... little did I know this was the beginning of a mountain of lies that would soon come out. I stopped texting poison, and we did not speak for 10 days. At the 10th day I was very broken... i remember it was on a Sunday. I missed poison... I even missed the abuse. The talking down to me...the silent treatment... the telling me she couldn't text me at work when she had for years before... the name calling... I couldn't go any longer. So, I called poison. she did not answer at first but called me back. Told me she was getting ready to head to a friend's house and go swimming. I broke down in tears on the phone telling her how I missed her and asking her why she wasn't honest about the conversation. Poison basically called my son a liar, told me I needed help, and that we were done. she let me know we could be "friends", but she was finished. She was colder than the coldest winter day and my heart was shattered. For the first time in my life, I thought about ending my life. My father and mother returned to my home with the children not long after and I could not control the tears. They were visibly shaken as they had never seen me like that. At one point I hung my head down and said to my father... Dad, I don't think I could ever do something like that to myself but... but today I'd like to give you my pistol to take with you. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and at that moment I knew he was hurting with me. He quietly responded go ahead and give it to me. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and told me that no one would ever love me more than my mother and him, that my little boys needed me more than I ever knew. I finished out my weekend smoking like a freight train and drinking like a fish. As the days passed by, I was still on speaking terms with poison, and she was as cheerful as ever... almost as if life was much better. Meanwhile I was broken. It came to a head one Wednesday as I had been watching her FB profile and saw that day, she had deleted nearly every photo of us "while at work where she could not use her phone". I confronted her about it and asked who she was trying to hide me from because I noticed she had now hidden her friends list and had restricted me from seeing her posts, and she initially tried to lie to me and then finally admitted to it stating that she did not want to give me any indication we were ever going to get back together. She then complained about how long we had been on the phone like I was some kind of emotional bum. It was at that moment that I made a choice...a choice for me...a choice for what was left of the little dignity I had... a choice that changed my life forever. I told poison I was sorry about keeping her on the phone and then I told her something I will never forget... I told her that there would come a time and a day that no matter who she called or text...she would get no answer and at that time she would have to deal with her feelings. I let her know I was not saying it to wish anything bad on her but simply telling her from experience. I then ended the call. I went No Contact and deleted/blocked poison on all social media which remains that way to this day. I deleted any trace of her existence from my social media as well. I did not speak to poison again for over two months and she never reached out once either. When I did finally reach out it was not because I had any desire to speak to her, it was because I felt terrible that our oldest son had become a go between, and it was not responsible for me as an adult to continue putting him through that at the age of 13. I let poison know I had moved on and was simply doing my part as a good Dad to open communication. Looking back... as bad as it sounds...this was one of the biggest mistakes I made but before we go there let's talk about those two months of NC.
When I initially went NC I was smoking more than I ever had. I worked from home and even found myself drinking on the job a few times. One day I realized I was at a crossroads. a crossroads that could change my life forever. I had been a smoker for 21 years and a daily drinker for 15 years. I had also had a few bouts with opiates here and there but nothing ever consistent. All of the above I had abused to "make me feel better" or as my favorite musician Ozzy Osbourne has always stated... to change. Sitting right at my dining room table I made myself a promise... I promised myself I would change...that I would become the best version of myself and do the things I have always wanted to do. I have always been dangerous anytime I have ever fixated myself on doing anything. This is coming from a guy that drank sodas his whole life and one day said...that's it. Other than the occasional Sprite I have never ever had another one and that's been close to 9 years now. Anyway, I decided it was time to change. I knew if I did not change, I would die right out here in this house. I made a plan & on 6/7/22 I smoked my last Marlboro. The next day I drank my last beer and God willing in 24 more days I will be a year sober from both. I had already previously stopped using the occasional opiates and although I'm not sure of my exact quit date I know I am already a year for that at this point. Not only did I clean myself u... I started reading... I started improving at work, I began attending AA meetings, and I made...a dentist appointment. From that time to the end of the year I had every bit of dental work in my mouth done... when 2023 rang in I was cavity free. I also made a Dr. appointment. Got a full checkup and sat through 3 vials of blood being drawn like it was a walk in the park. Folks you have to understand that the shape I was in when poison left... I could not go to the dentist... I could not go to a Dr. both put me into full panic mode. Yet there I was doing it. You know what else? I started making amends. I made amends with everyone I had wrote off, even the ones that I felt really didn't deserve it. I reached out to friends I had stopped seeing because poison I had made me feel bad for years about going anywhere and talked shit about nearly every friend I had. Guess what else? I started forcing myself to drive on the highway, I started with baby steps and today I can go just about anywhere and I'm still setting new goals. I also joined a gym around October, but that part of the story will come later as it was not in these 2 months of NC. I had always been fascinated with fitness... I dreamed for years of being in great shape. So, I started studying fitness and reading everything I could. I started learning Spanish and anything else I ever wanted to know from how to change a bicycle tire to how to sew up a seam in a chair to how to cut hair... I started learning. I prayed often...every morning...sometimes throughout the day... honestly sometimes it was all I could do...to just pray and pray. I begged God to take my anger from me and to heal my heart. And... I called my mother. I had blown her off for years but when I needed her, she was right there. I called her every day, still do most days and probably always will. God knows I was given a good one, she has stayed right there for me across this entire journey.
I should also mention that just over 30 days into my sobriety the truth finally started leaking out. As my mother used to always say...what's in the dark will always come to the light. It turns out that while my son was at a birthday party for one of poisons friends' children...the grandfather chimed off...where's your boyfriend (we'll call him meth head). And guess who meth head is? Meth head is the same guy she was fooling around with when I met her 14 years prior... yes, the one that ran around on her. 9 years older than her so 44 now. Apparently, meth head and poison had been talking for quite some time. Meth head and his girlfriend were just about to get married when suddenly the wedding was called off and she moved out...coincidence? Doubtful. You see meth heads name had come up several times over the 14 years, so I always knew he was still interested. Of course, poison denied ever speaking to him, but I know now that was a lie. They had been entertaining each other through text and maybe even in person for years before our relationship ended... I have no doubt they had lightly slept together as well. What's funny is she tortured me day in and day out for years about the things I did when I was young only for to find out she had been doing the same shit but much more current smh. I also believe he had been to our home back when I was going to college at night and remember when I said she kept calling me when she moved out and I said I'd come back to that? I whole heartedly believe he was helping her move and she was scared to death I'd show up. Apparently, the reason the grandfather knew about him is because the grandfather runs a local business and poison had been riding meth head around in the vehicle, I spent 6 hours negotiating for her but that's irrelevant, I guess. When it came out from my child, he was very upset, I comforted him the best i could, and I drove to my mother's house. I had long told her I knew something was off but that I would be ok when the day came that it came out. She had told me I might not feel that way when the time came. So, I drove over there, and I told her what had come out and who it was. I said Ma I just want you to see me... I'm still standing... I still haven't had a drink...still haven't had a cigarette. Then she looked at me and said something I'll never forget...she said it doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it? It was true...it hurt like hell. Knowing this person, I had put on a pedestal for over a decade had betrayed me and been having sex with meth head...it cut me. I stayed the course though... I kept my focus and never even acknowledged to poison what I had found out. It's true the old me wanted to... to hurt them both for disrespecting me. After all I had lived my life by the code: eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth but this time I let it ride. I had been all over Quora and Reddit in the early days searching endlessly for closure and comfort so I knew very well the last thing I should do is dare let her know she had hurt me...after all she didn't care anyway. I did however take the last bit of anything that had any significance of us left here and burn it right in the front yard... my wedding ring is still out there in the dirt somewhere from when I threw it... maybe someone will find it 50 years from now and get a nice little pay day. My little princess was still married to me and had helped end another person's upcoming marriage of which meth head had two small children with. Meanwhile poison is telling my oldest son what a standup guy this fella is...mind you I never ran with him, but I know plenty about him. He was a small time want to be thug that was a felon. Meth head had been involved in two different home invasions robbing small time drug dealers. The second one he dropped his pistol at the scene. When traced back to him what did Meth head do? He ratted out the other two guys and claimed he did nothing and was simply the driver. They gave meth head probation while one of the other guys went to prison for quite a while. Oh, and it just so happens that all meth heads baby mamas and a lot of his exes were strung out...including the one he had just split up with that had both his kids. I'm thinking what kind of man leaves his kids with someone he knows is on dope to go screw around with some other guys wife. Yeah. A real standup guy, right?
I will admit...to be honest I have barely scraped the surface of this story and sheer amount of disrespect, manipulation and lies would absolutely knock the wind out of almost any person reading this if I included it all. What I will say is that during the initial no contact my oldest son had a horrible time. He and his mother were fighting constantly to the point he did not want to come out of his room. His heart was broken when he found out what she was doing, and she had no empathy for him. To the point he came to me one day and said Dad... I think she thinks I'm you. He was abused verbally and also told me she slapped him on multiple occasions when they were arguing. It broke my heart to see her falling apart and what she was doing to our child. I however was not shocked; she had been verbally abusive to him while we still lived together...she was constantly angry and on occasion I had to speak up and tell her what she was doing was wrong at which point I would be attacked and reminded of my early 20s when I was not much of a dad.
Initially when we separated, I was basically told I could see the kids every other weekend. Then poison told me I could see them every Tuesday as well. This was very hard on me as I had never gone a day without seeing my babies. I however did not have the money to do anything about it at the time. Things changed when a person that will remain anonymous stepped up and loaned me the $5,000 to sue poison for 50/50 custody. Before that I tried to reason with her and explain I felt I should be able to have the kids one week at a time and her have the kids one week at a time which she refused. Little did she know I had already started proceedings to hire the best attorney in town. I also should mention that while I was working through my panic attacks and anxiety, I was offered to go on a trip to the Tennessee mountains for a week. I had not been able to travel to the mountains in over 5 years due to my issues and I made up my mind that I was going. After all I had been told we were all going to take a minivan and I would not have to drive. I thought to myself, my kids really need this, and I need it too. Looking back, it was one of the true beginnings of my healing and will forever be grateful to those two friends who were there for me and invited me...it changed my life. Just before our trip at the beginning of August i had received a call from my mother that a huge packet had arrived from a law firm. I paced my house back and forth as she read to me a massive separation agreement that poison had drawn up. I never acknowledged it to poison and though I stated above I had broken NC to open communication I want to make it clear that other than that, I never reached out to her, ever. So anyway, when I received the separation agreement, I never said a word. When I got back from the trip poison kept harassing me every few days through text asking me had I received "my paperwork" and trying to push me to sign it. By this time, I had been sober several months & was feeling much stronger so I used grey rock responses and basically let her know I was reviewing it and she would receive a response when I was done. She also kept texting me trying to get me to speak to her on the phone and even inviting me over to "have a conversation" regarding our son's behavior as if she wanted me to punish him for dare standing against how she was treating him. I finally let the bow break and let her know via text that my attorney had advised me not to speak to her in person or over the phone and that all communication should be through text. At that moment I think she realized I had an attorney, and I was no longer going to let her walk on me. She had a total melt down and even after that continued calling to which one night I answered. She tried to get me to come over there because her and my son were fighting. Apparently, she was verbally abusing him, and he fought back and told her that she hung out with trash to which she dragged him back to her bedroom and beat him across the back with a belt. I got that part of the story later from him but that night it was her saying I needed to talk to him. I explained to her I was not coming that way and then after all the months of silence...of keeping what I knew to myself I snapped. I asked her exactly what she wanted me to do about it. I explained he's 13...what did you think he was going to do when all that came out in front of him about this guy. Then I said something to the extent of...you couldn't even keep your legs shut until we got our divorce, and she hung up the phone... I guess the truth stung. That was the first time I ever acknowledged meth head.
Not long after her attorney was contacted by my attorney to enquire about 50/50, poison bucked back and offered me one additional day in the week and said that was all she was going to do. So naturally I did what any decent Father should do... I sued poison for full custody. The attorney had explained you always start with more than what you want so that's what we did. Little did poisoning know, I had been documenting everything. Every time my son told me she cursed at him, put her hands on him, the conversations she had with him about meth head, her having a breakdown of sorts in front of him, the 75" tv she bought and had meth head hang up while the kids were gone but yet she had blankets over the kids windows instead of buying curtains, everything. I was keeping a log day by day and had been since the day we split...every lie...every manipulation tactic...everything. Some of my personal favorites were when she left our son at a friend's house and told him she'd be going to the dollar store a short drive away and didn't show back up for over an hour. Or the time she contacted my mother who still so badly wanted to believe she was a good person and asked her if she could watch the kids on a certain day for her to go to a funeral. My Mother jumped at the chance, she had no clue how many years behind closed doors poison had bad mouthed her and called her a hypocrite. Even now I get angry thinking about how I let her talk about the woman who gave birth to me like that...especially when it was my mother who was there for me every single day as I went through this battle. Thats one hypocrite I'm proud I have in my life. But anyway, Mama jumped at the opportunity and said yes, she'd been trying to have a mother daughter in law relationship with poison for years. Some of you may find it interesting to know whose funeral she wanted to go too. Well, it just so happens it was one of meth heads best friends...a guy he used to live with back when poison was screwing him before me. This fella was a standup guy. Paralyzed from the waist down due to a drunk driving accident where he was the drunk driver. He collected a disability check of which he spent on meth, booze, and prostitutes. His double wide trailer had a stripper pole installed in it and I'm sure poison spent many nights in there before my time. Regardless, she had not seen this gentleman in over a decade to my knowledge but yet here she was wanting to go to his funeral. Mind you this was lightly before the truth came out about her and meth head. I however was smart and already and an intuition that they were involved and thus why she was dying to go to this gentleman's funeral. I assume she wanted to support her new baby even more publicly than she already had. I let Mom know my suspicions, but she remained neutral and told me I had no proof of that. Then came the call from my son on the morning of the funeral day. He said Dad, I need you to know something. Mom's friend's son was diagnosed with Covid, and we were just over there. I was shocked that even as low as poison was that she had not reached out and notified my mother of this and was still going to take the children over there knowing they had been exposed. Just to add context my parents are in their 70s and had contracted Covid the year before. It nearly killed them both and they were both extremely sick for over a month. This really angered me that poison would put my parents at risk to go to that funeral. I notified my mom immediately who reached out to poison to enquire and sure enough it was true. Poison then stated she would not be bringing the children. We have all always agreed had my son not called and told us, she absolutely would have not said a word and brought the kids. To me that was disgusting but then again at this time it was something every other day and it felt like with each instance poison would stoop to a new low. There was so much in fact I begin to get numb to it. I should also mention that in the middle of all of this a friend of mine that just so happened to also be a friend of meth heads, passed away. I thought a lot of this guy regardless of his friendship with meth head and so I was one of the speakers at this funeral. Meth head was pallbearer and I had to get right with Jesus before I went. Everything in me wanted to beat the brakes off of meth head but instead I showed up right by myself and did my friend a great honor. I spoke clearly right in front of those people and never lost my composuer. After the service I drove to the cemetery to see him laid to rest. Meth head never came near me, I knew that day all I needed to know. He wasn't just a punk, he was a coward. I stook there in the cemetery looking directly at him with my hands behind my back. when I was satisfied I left. That day I knew how strong I had become. Keep in mind that through all of this, I never reached out to poison not one time and she definitely did not show up at that funeral. To me we had our current schedule and unless there was an emergency involving one of the kids there would be no reason to reach out to her. So I followed strict NC on my end. Poison on the other hand never failed to have a reason to reach out to me 2 or 3 times a week. I learned to ignore the times that were not necessary and only respond when I had too.
Please see Part Two for the end of this story

I'm used to researching traditional obituaries officially published by a designated family membefuneral home-type style.
Can anyone now make up obituaries/memorials about anyone? In researching recent deaths of some far-flung relatives via internet search, it appears it's possible anyone can simply enter a person's name, death, and residence (with or without a formal obituary) and anyone can flock on to say whatever.
This feels like it can be used badly. Plus, I've already seen at least one comment made by someone who got the wrong person who happened to have the same name (no obituary was included in the"memorial" page) and said something rather unpleasant like: "was so proud Jim overcame his addiction and..."
This could be a mess for future genealogists, not to mention very upsetting for family members.

I need to get this off my chest. I 28F married my Husband 41M 2 years ago. I feel stupid for even marrying him to begin with. My family says that this situation is my fault. maybe it is, but i dont care.
We started dating 8.5 years ago, I was 20 years old. I come from a background of childhood abuse (emotional/Sexual.) Shortly after we started dating my grandma got sick, My grandma was always my rock growing up she was like a second mom for me, so it hit me very hard. Because I wasnt that social to begin with we didnt see each other very often at first. My grandma ended up pulling through and coming to a full recovery, but he used his understanding to convince me to have sex with him for the first time. It hurt so bad it felt like i was being ripped in half, it hurt so bad i couldnt tell the difference when he was in the front of the back (if you know what i mean). The pain of having sex increased my trauma, i hated having sex with him. the pain never got any better, but he wanted to work it out.
When we were dating i still lived in the abusive environment, and i often slept over at his house. I suffer from extreme insomnia, and one night i staying there to have a safe place from my home life I was having a hard time sleeping and tossed and turned alot. Without a word he grabbed me shoulder and rolled me over pulled off my underwear and had sex with me without my consent. The event lasted maybe 3 minutes then he said " there now lay still and go to sleep". That was the last time i shared a bed with him.
Through the years i struggled with depression and i became really close to a girl ill call C i new C from childhood we drifted apart for awhile be drifted back. C and i went out for drives every night. C was having a lot of relationship problems. my husband ill call him H, said he didnt want me to hang out with C anymore, because he felt like C was using me as an "Emotional tampon". I told him she wasnt thats just how friendship works.
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Through the years he still tried to get me to not see C anymore and he openly makes negative comments about C. Through the years H also said we were going to buy a house together and get me out of my house and from the start I told him i wanted to have kids. Through the years he would make comments telling me that he didnt trust me around kids. that i would forget them in a hot car or forget to feed them. It hurt but i forgave him.
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After 5 years of being together H had an argument with his cousin, and after the argument H told me he would be buying me a ring for Christmas. H took me shopping and i picked which ring i wanted and we sized it. and H gave me the jeweler bag at Christmas. It hurt that he didnt even bother to wrap it but i got over it. none of my friends or family was excited about the engagement.
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Then i moved into his house in 2020. I didnt want to move into his house because i knew it would never be mine. but with the pandemic happening and i worked at a drug store i couldnt put me grandma in danger. i was so sad to leave me family cats and i slipped into the worst depression ive ever experienced. i told him i wanted a cat. he said he would never have a cat. I cried in a ball in a corner of the room he gave me and he told me "grow up i dont want to come home to my girlfriend acting so sad. Work is difficult for me and i need you to be happy." i told him i couldnt be happy without a cat and finally he agreed on getting a cat. before he could change his mind i went out and adopted a black cat. he was mad that i adopted a black cat, i told him if he wanted to pick the colour he should have acted more supportive about getting her. we named her Aria after the game of thrones character. Aria loves walks and Adventures and we both loved her.
We were happy for a couple of months then my grandma suddenly pasted away due to old age. H came to half of the funeral. he offered me his elbow to cry on. two weeks later H told me to " Get over it. She was old you shouldnt be surpised." I was becoming more and more unhappy I spend 1 year in his place with him and then my friend ill call her B, asked me if i wanted to move out with her.
So me and H broke up but i agreed to go to counseling with him. me and B found a really nice place for the two of us. I brought Aria and B had 1 cat as well. H told me i should leave Aria with him. I declined. he kept pushing saying that Aria would be stressed, i said no Aria was my cat and has always been my cat. turns out Aria and Bs cat got along great.
H and i never ended up going to counseling. I let him back in after his mom died, thinking he needed me. We ended up going through with the wedding anyway but continued to live apart. I ended up adopting another Cat i called Bailey. and B adopted 2 more cats making the total of cats 5.
Through the years My mom and i have had a very troubling relationship. my mom has a talent of saying the cruelest things. but i still love her even though i was the victim of so much of her abuse growing up. H doesnt like my mom. one day me and my mom had a particularly bad fight and i didnt want to see H. H was begging to come over. i declined he kept asking me to just go on a little drive. i finally gave in and agreed to go on a drive. On the drive H said that i had to pick. He said he couldnt keep dealing with this. hes tired of dealing with my sad feelings and he said i need to either cut my mom off completely or never complain or cry ever again. I begged him to drop it but he wouldnt, finally i agreed to go NC with my mom. but it ended up just being LC.
B and i were coming up on the end of our lease and we wanted to move. H talked me and B into moving to another city. and H wanted to move with us. but H wanted and made B pay for the whole move. B and i found a place that had three bedrooms for us and would allow 5 cats. B and I both cant drive so we left our jobs and found new ones, H already worked in the city we moved to.
After 1 month i lost my job after finding out i had Bipolar disorder. after learning i had bipolar H was disgusted. he couldnt believe that im "Broken". I went through a bad bad depression. B stayed up many nights with me while i cried and she would bring me food and make sure i ate it. Then i found a new job and my mood improved. I was making new friends and i was loving my new job. H told me he wants me to quit my job. This is when i started hating him. I finally realized he doesnt care if im actually happy. we had many fights about my job.
I started having an affair with one of my new friends. I finally realized what Love actually feels like and i realized that ive NEVER felt it before. I want a divorce. My family thinks i should try counseling but im just done. I dont love H. however because i only work a couple days ( i used to work more that's not why H hates my job) i dont make enough to reliably be able to make my share of rent.
I feel so stuck. I dont know what to do and im scared of H, i dont know what he'll do to me. H has always been unpredictable.
anyway ive never told anyone the whole story different people have different pieces and im sure im missing things. but it feels good to tell someone, even if its strangers.