Basket of fries zaxby's

I had been dealing with extreme mental overload which made me tired to my core. I have had a bunch of stuff happen in the last year that I have been able to deal with, but just left my brain fried. Since being diagnosed 3 months ago and taking Concerta, I have been less mentally fried/ tired. I feel like I still need to go up a dose on my medication, because at times I feel my brain racing again. My question is this: is the medication making me less tired because it’s helping my ADHD or is it because it’s a stimulant?
I do not feel high, or wired, just feel less run through the wringer. I do believe I need to go up a dose on my medication and when a situation came up recently I went into my hyper over analyzing mode and it sucked. I am afraid if I say the meds make me less exhausted my doctor will think I’m taking it as a stimulant. I don’t feel it “stimulates” me. I can’t really explain what it does besides making me less mentally tired.

People often ask why there is so much suffering in the world. They blame god or the lack of god but it's really just a fault of the ego. There is no such thing as "good" and "evil". There's beneficial, detrimental, ego-driven, group-driven, trauma, abuse cycles, coping mechanisms, pain. Stop clinging onto organized religious bullshit.
This world was not made to b e easy for you or any other organism. It is impermanent by nature. There is no such thing as evil, your bully beat you up because he was either in pain and wanted to feel better, or bored, or just wanted to have fun. Trying to compartmentalize all human behaviors into a basket is just a lazy way of dealing with threats.
More importantly, if there is an all loving god that created the universe, then the universe was designed this way for a reason. All "evil" behaviors we see, are present in nature. Why? To keep the balance. If there were no predators, then herbivores would eat everything until they went extinct. Animals hoard food in groups to increase their own chances of survival like billionaires. Primates bully lower status males to keep the mates to themselves. Some animals form groups so that predators will choose easier targets to eat and attack. Envy, jealousy, greed, wrath, all of it an evolution strategy.
It makes organisms stronger through an evolutionary arms race. Humans are just a species stuck with genes that force us to know predate on each other to survive in some cases.
Stop complaining about an evil world, and start doing something about it.

Yo, we ain't your typical gangsters, we beyond compare, Eating berries, spilling feelings in the air. Tapioca drippin', bodies nearly bare, Blap blap on them fools, show 'em we don't play fair.
Homie with the nasty pants, yeah, it's a shame, IBS can't stop his game, ladies know his name. Rufus, our dawg, prays and builds models with style, Backwards hat, chain swingin', he got the smile. And on Sundays, church with his mom, that's his dial. Too bad about the bile.
We're a crew like no other, breaking all the norms, Gas stories, ketchup, fries, meatloaf in all its forms. Sophisticated and pissed, we ain't your average blokes.
Other crews can't match our unique sway, We're the best, no doubt, in every single way. We used to be straight, but the bitches left, So now we all gay, except Rufus (he just watches), With each other, word to your mother, dawg.
Girls come and go, now it's just rhymes we spread, Terminal brain cancer, basement water had lead. But we got no regrets, we live without dread, Bet on us, we'll leave a legacy before we're dead.
Honey buns, chores for bread, we hustle upstairs, Grindin' for our parents, showin' them we care. Doing dishes and shit! In this gangster rap game, we stand tall and true, Eating up the beans, doin' what we gotta do. Fartin and shit.
We're the kings of the streets, with our own swag, No one can touch us, we're never gonna lag. Gangster rap in our veins, that's our DNA, Leaving our mark, making history our way. Bill Cosby show on the tele. Fuck y'all's!!

My name is Laura, and this is my story. It's a tale of fear and the unknown, of love and betrayal, and of the strength of a mother's love. It all started when my husband, Adam, and I decided to start a new life in a beautiful villa by the lake in the small town of Kruklanki. The villa, standing alone amidst the vast expanse of nature, was like an island, symbolising our isolation. The lake, with its calm surface hiding unknown depths, mirrored the unknown we were about to step into.
We were a young couple, full of hope and dreams. Adam, with his easy smile and infectious laughter, was my rock. We dreamt of a peaceful life, of raising our child in the serene surroundings of the villa. We shared a love for the outdoors, often spending our evenings stargazing, our hands intertwined. The villa stood tall amidst a lush emerald forest, its weathered stones blending harmoniously with the vibrant foliage. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting ethereal patterns on the moss-covered path leading to the entrance. The air was fragrant with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, inviting us to embark on our new life.
But even as we unpacked our belongings, I couldn't shake off a strange feeling. Adam, usually so attentive, seemed distant, his mind elsewhere. I dismissed it as stress from the move. Little did I know then, it was a sign of the betrayal that was to come. Soon after we settled in, I couldn't shake off a sense of foreboding. The villa, once a symbol of our dreams, was starting to feel like a prison, its grandeur overshadowed by a chilling silence. And the lake, once a symbol of peace, now seemed to whisper of hidden dangers beneath its serene surface.
Soon after we settled in, I began to experience strange and terrifying events. At first, they were just subtle nuances: shadows moving along the corridors, whispers in the night, vague movements nearby. I tried to dismiss them as figments of my imagination, but they became increasingly disturbing and intense, filling me with a chronic sense of fear.
Adam, my husband, was sceptical. He believed that these were just products of my imagination, the result of stress from the move and adapting to a new place. Adam, ever the rationalist, tried to reassure me. 'Laura, it's just the stress of the move and the pregnancy,' he would say, his eyes full of concern yet disbelief. 'There's no real danger.' His words, meant to comfort, only served to widen the chasm between us. But I could feel it, something was not right.
One night, I woke up to a chilling whisper. It was so close, as if someone was right next to me. I turned on the bedside lamp, but there was no one there. The room was empty, but the feeling of being watched was overwhelming. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms were sweaty, and I was shaking.
'Adam,' I whispered, nudging him awake. He groaned, turning to face me. 'Did you hear that?'
'Hear what?' he mumbled, his eyes half-closed.
'The whispering. It was right here, right next to me.'
Adam sighed, rubbing his eyes. 'Laura, you're just stressed. It's the new house, the new surroundings. You're imagining things.'
I wanted to believe him, to write it off as a product of stress and fear. But deep down, I knew something was not right.
The next day, I noticed something else. The shadows in the house seemed to move on their own, even when there was no one around. I could hear soft whispers, but when I tried to locate the source, there was nothing. I felt like I was being watched, followed. I tried to tell Adam about it, but he just brushed it off, saying I was just stressed and needed rest.
But I knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. The house was not just a house. It was something else, something sinister. And I was trapped in it, with no one to believe me, no one to help me. I was alone, and I was scared.
The days turned into weeks, and the strange occurrences in the villa didn't cease. If anything, they became more frequent, more intense. I started noticing mysterious figures around the villa, always on the edge of my vision. They were close, yet always just far enough that I couldn't make out their features. Their presence filled me with a sense of paranoia and constant danger. I felt like a prey being watched by predators, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Our neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Graverson, began to show an unusual interest in me. One afternoon, as I was tending to the garden, Mrs. Graverson approached me.
'Laura, dear,' she said, her voice sweet yet somehow unsettling. 'How are you finding Kruklanki? Is the villa to your liking?'
Her questions seemed innocent, but there was something in her gaze that made me uneasy.
Mrs. Graverson's eyes lingered on my stomach for a moment too long, a strange smile playing on her lips, something I couldn't quite define. Mr. Graverson, with his piercing gaze, and Mrs. Graverson, with her constant, unsettling smile, were always too eager to help. Their behavior was suspicious, their questions too probing. They seemed particularly interested in my pregnancy, their eyes lingering on my growing belly a moment too long. I couldn't shake off the feeling that they were hiding something.
One day, Mrs. Graverson came over with a basket of freshly baked cookies. As she handed them to me, her gaze lingered on my stomach. There was something in her eyes, a strange intensity that made me uncomfortable. I didn't know it then, but it was a hint of the dark intentions that lay beneath her friendly facade. I was pregnant at the time, and her eyes seemed to hold a strange fascination for my unborn child. It was a fleeting moment, but it sent chills down my spine.
As time passed, I began to suspect that the Graversons were part of a cult practising occultism, planning to use my unborn child in a dark ritual. It was a terrifying thought, but the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together. The strange occurrences, the mysterious figures, the Graversons' unusual interest in me and my child, it all pointed to something dark and sinister.
I started finding evidence of their involvement in other dangerous activities. I found strange symbols carved into the trees around their house, symbols that I later found out were associated with occult practices. I also noticed that they would often disappear during the night, only to return in the early hours of the morning, looking exhausted and secretive.
I suspected that they were responsible for the strange events and observations. The fear was overwhelming, but I knew I had to protect my child. I was alone in this fight, with no one to turn to. But I was determined. I was a mother, and I would do anything to keep my child safe.
In my desperation, I turned to the local clergyman, Father Christopher. He was a quiet man, always keeping to himself. I had often wondered why he seemed so distant, so detached from the rest of the town. Little did I know, his aloofness was a sign of the secrets he was hiding. I found him in the church, his eyes filled with a quiet serenity.
'Father Christopher,' I began, my voice trembling. 'I need your help. There's something... something wrong in the villa.'
He looked at me, his gaze thoughtful. 'Tell me everything, Laura,' he said, his voice calm and reassuring.
I went to the church, hoping to find some solace, some protection. I wanted to tell him about my experiences, ask for his support and protection. But to my surprise, Father Christopher seemed to be absent and avoided contact with me.
I tried to reach out to him several times, but each time, I was met with silence. His absence was strange, and it made me wonder if he was involved in this intrigue. The thought was terrifying, but I couldn't ignore the possibility. I felt even more disoriented and anxious when I discovered that Father Christopher might be involved in the conspiracy.
I started to suspect that he himself was a member of the cult or was being intimidated by them. This discovery made me feel even more alone and defenceless in the face of the impending threat. I was desperate and isolated, and I had to fend for myself.
I decided to seek information on my own to uncover the truth and find a way to protect myself and my unborn child. I spent countless hours researching, trying to understand what was happening. I read about occult practices, about cults and their rituals. The more I learned, the more terrified I became. But I knew I had to keep going, for the sake of my child.
One night, as I was poring over an old book about local legends and myths, I came across a passage that sent chills down my spine. It spoke of a cult that had once existed in Kruklanki, a cult that practised dark rituals involving unborn children. The description matched the Graversons' behaviour and the strange occurrences in the villa. I knew then that my suspicions were not unfounded.
I decided to confront the Graversons. I knocked on their door, my heart pounding. 'I've noticed you've been acting strangely,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady. They exchanged a glance, their smiles never reaching their eyes. 'We're just concerned for you, dear,' Mrs. Graverson replied, her voice too sweet. But their reassurances did nothing to quell my fears.
I was up against something far more dangerous than I had imagined. But I was not going to give up. I was a mother, and I would do whatever it took to protect my child.
As my due date approached, I realised that time was running out and the threat was becoming greater. I had a recurring dream, a nightmare really, of a clock ticking loudly, its hands moving faster and faster. It was a chilling reminder of the impending danger, a foreshadowing of the race against time that lay ahead. I had to act quickly to save my child and uncover the truth. My maternal instinct and determination had strengthened, giving me the power to fight against the unknown and dark enemy. Despite the exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, I poured over the ancient texts, my fingers tracing the cryptic symbols. I wouldn't rest, not until I had found a way to protect my child, and I made a decision that would change everything.
I decided to find a mysterious book that, according to legend, had the power to protect against dark forces. I began an intensive search, scouring old libraries, archives, and places connected with the history of Kruklanki. I studied ancient writings, mythologies, and ancient rituals, trying to find clues and the key to solving this dark mystery.
During my search, I uncovered a horrifying history of Kruklanki. It turned out that many years ago, similar rituals had taken place in the town, bringing a curse and evil upon its inhabitants. The town's past was steeped in blood and dark secrets. Now, the cult wanted to renew this power and use my unborn child in their dark plans.
I spent countless hours in the town's library, pouring over old books and documents. I found references to a cult that had existed in Kruklanki centuries ago, a cult that had been banished after a terrible event. The details were vague, but it was clear that the cult had been involved in dark rituals and practices.
The more I learned, the more terrified I became. But I also felt a strange sense of determination. I was not just fighting for myself anymore, I was fighting for my child. And I was not going to let anything harm my baby.
I knew that finding the book was a long shot, but it was the only hope I had. I had to believe that it existed, that it could help me. As my due date approached, the Graversons' interest in me seemed to intensify. They would drop by unannounced, their questions becoming more personal, their gazes more intrusive. I had to believe that I could protect my child, that I could find the mysterious book and put an end to this nightmare.
In a dramatic turn of events, I discovered that Adam, my husband, had been bribed by the cultists and intended to give them our unborn child. A cold numbness spread through me as I read the words, each sentence a dagger to my heart. I could barely breathe, the paper trembling in my hands and fueled my motivation to fight even more. At first, I refused to believe it, but the evidence was overwhelmingly strong.
I found a letter hidden in his drawer, a letter from the Graversons. It spoke of a ritual, of a promise of power and wealth, and of our child. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The man I loved, the man who would hold me during those terrifying nights, was planning to betray me and our unborn child. Was it the promise of power and wealth that lured him? Or was he manipulated, ensnared by the Graversons' cunning words? The betrayal cut deep, but I had no time for despair.
I confronted Adam, my heart pounding in my chest. 'Adam,' I said, holding out the letter. 'What is this?'
He looked at the letter, his face paling. 'Laura, I...'
'You were going to give our child to them, weren't you?' I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and betrayal. He fell silent, his silence confirming my worst fears.
The look in his eyes confirmed my worst fears. I felt a wave of despair wash over me, but I knew I had to stay strong for my child.
I had to face Adam and defeat the dark forces that were plaguing Kruklanki. I pushed the boundaries of my courage and strength to protect my child and prevent the cultists from performing their dark ritual. I also had to confront my own fears and doubts that accompanied me.
In the hours leading up to the confrontation, I prepared myself for the battle ahead. Father Christopher had given me a small cross, a symbol of faith and protection. Clutching it tightly, I steeled myself for what was to come. As I entered the church, the cultists turned towards me, surprise flickering in their eyes. I stepped forward, my voice echoing in the silence, 'This ends now.' Adam was among them. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the man I once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He stepped forward, trying to dissuade me, but I stood my ground. 'You won't take my child,' I declared, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me. It was a moment where the power of a mother's love and courage broke through the darkness and triumphed over it.
I stood in the church, my heart pounding in my chest, as I faced the cultists. I could see the surprise in their eyes as I confronted them, as I defied them. With Father Christopher by my side, we fought against the darkness that threatened to consume us.
In the end, love and courage prevailed. I managed to save my child, to protect him from the darkness that had threatened to take him away from me. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I would do it again in a heartbeat for my child.
In the aftermath of the confrontation, the town was eerily quiet. The cultists had been defeated, their dark plans thwarted. Adam was nowhere to be found, and I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
In the days that followed, the weight of the ordeal began to lift, replaced by a newfound strength within me. I made the decision to leave the villa behind, a physical representation of the darkness that had consumed my life. With each step I took away from that place, I felt a sense of liberation and determination.
I found a small house nestled in the heart of Kruklanki, a place where the warmth of the community embraced me. As I settled into my new home, I realised that my journey was not just about protecting my child, but also about finding my own strength. Through the trials I had faced, I had discovered a reservoir of resilience and courage within myself that I never knew existed.
Father Christopher, my steadfast companion, continued to provide guidance and support. We spent countless hours in conversation, sharing our experiences and searching for meaning in the darkness that had enveloped Kruklanki. Through his wisdom and unwavering faith, I learned to embrace my role as a protector and a fighter.
As time went on, I saw the transformation within me. The fear that once gripped my heart had been replaced by a fierce determination to rebuild and find joy in the simple moments. I laughed with neighbours, embraced the beauty of the lake, and reveled in the innocent smiles of my child.
In the midst of the darkness, I found my own light. The journey had not only saved my child but had also saved me. I was no longer the frightened woman who arrived in Kruklanki, but a mother fortified by love and an unyielding spirit. Together, my child and I would create a new story, one filled with hope and the resilience to face any darkness that may come our way.
Despite everything, I found hope. Hope in the kindness of Father Christopher, hope in the strength of my love for my child, hope in the possibility of a new beginning. I had faced the darkness and come out on the other side stronger and more determined.
This is my story, a story of fear and courage, of darkness and light, of despair and hope. It's a story of a mother's love, a love so strong it can conquer even the darkest of evils. And it's a story of Kruklanki, a town that faced its dark past and emerged stronger.

So when we first introduced staying on the mat at meal times our pup did REALLY well. But a few days in she's sick of it and up off the bed several times a minute, ducking away from us as we try to guide her back to the mat to make her stay there like our older boy does.
This evening we had fried foods and hot oil still on the stove so for her safety, I used a leash to tether her in place on the mat (long enough for her to move around but not leave the bed).
She tried demand barking at me a few times to leave the bed, which was calmly met with being removed from the kitchen and sent to the bedroom for a minute before she could return. Eventually she settled down and napped.
Now I've read that management is key and preventing bad behavior is the best way to ensure it doesn't become a habit, so I was wondering if this was an okay long term solution, at least for the time being. Tether her each meal time, give her a kong or a chew, and let her get used to the idea that meal times are for calmly relaxing in bed while we eat and that she doesn't get any of our food, then a few weeks or however long from now trying to remove the leash and see how she does.
What do you guys think?

Before anyone comes at me, let me explain. I am a male, I was born a male; always have been, always will be. The thing is, I’ve spent my entire life comparing myself to the men closest to me in my life, meaning my family and my closest friends. Let’s start with my family. The men in my family are your stereotypical “stupid husband in movies”, all they care about is food and sports, video games and women. That’s it. If you ask them if they’re stressing and worrying, they say no. If they’re going somewhere, they’ll go with 2 shirts and 2 underwear’s max, if they’re going out to eat, they’ll be fine with whatever. They’ll be outside and go workout and come back sweaty and take a 5 minute shower and toss all their clothes together in the machine. They go months without changing their bedsheets or washing their blankets or cleaning their cars or cell phones or anything. They stuff their faces with cookies for breakfast, a hot dog for lunch and a soda or two for dinner. They haven’t been to the doctor in months, maybe once a year, and the dentist maybe once a year too. They’ll take the trash out and come back and continue playing games. Something traumatic will happen and everyone will be worrying and 3 hours later they’ll say “huh, wait what happened, I didn’t hear anything.”they’ll hang out with their friends and come back and forget to even ask their friends where their friend works or how their family is doing. When it’s time to go out, they’ll grab a random shirt to wear, take a quick poop, and ruffle their hair and step outside and leave. They’ll be staring off into the distance, not saying anything and if you ask them what’s wrong they’ll say “just thinking about that basket that was scored last month” No fears, no worries, no insecurities, N O T H I N G. No planning, no preparation, not a thought behind those eyes. No opinions, no gossip, no awareness of the world or anything. Then there’s me. Im the polar opposite. I have many fears and many worries. I suffer from multiple mental health disorders which cause me to worry nonstop. If I’m going somewhere, I HAVE to be prepared. Traveling? I’ll take almost my whole closet. You never know how cold or warm it’ll be. I’ll take Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer and bandaids and chapstick and pain killers and cold and flu medicine too. You never know what happens. If I’m going out to eat, I need to know where we are going NOW, so I can google the menu beforehand and decide on what I want. If I come back sweaty from the gym I need to take a precise shower so I’m very clean and then I do laundry by separating whites and colors. I also wash and change all my bedding and blankets and pillows weekly and so on. Also, I don’t like sports and I eat calculated and work out,making sure to get all my vitamins minerals and nutrients daily. I also get constant checkups and doctodentist visits and so on. I take the trash out and come back and wash my hands well before resuming my video game. I sit and worry about so many things in my life. I get ready so well before going out, making myself extra spotless with ironed clothes and pressed shirts with cologne. My point being, they’re the stereotypical “stupid male” in movies that just sits on the couch and eats chips and beer and watches football. The fact of the matter is, I really wish I was like them. They barely go through emotions, whereas me, I feel everything so deeply. I think, I worry, I overthink, I stay awake at night, i have fears and insecurities and I can’t seem to shake them. Despite me having so much control over my entire life, by meticulously doing things, the more I do, the more I worry. They seem so much more happier and I used to think it was a classic case of “grass is greener on the other side” but as the years have passed , their lives truly are happy. My entire life I’ve tried being as carefree as them but I can’t. They also have flawless social skills and are very likable whereas me with my mental health issues causes me to be awkward and dumb in public settings. Does anyone else feel this way? How are my fellow men so carefree all the time? Why can’t I be like that?

there was this black man on death row and death row inmates usually get a last meal of their choice. he chose to get koolaid, steak, fried chicken, and a pie. If that ain't black idk what is (his name was ricky ray rector)

Hello guys, I am potentially looking to break into working for the government as a land surveyor and wanted to inquire on what you all think of moonlighting? I have talked to a few guys at CALTRANS who do moonlight and they say its mostly in their free time.
​
My idea is to do the following: contract out drafting to an old colleague, work on Fri-Sun in the field maybe once or twice a month as time permits, then resolve boundaries Mon-Thurs at night. The job would likely be Mon-Thur 6:30AM-5PM. I do not see any conflict of interest, as it would be for a public agency who does not review submittals of record maps, it would be likely a utility. I would use my own time and equipment, and do not believe they outlaw moonlighting.
​
They pay for public agencies in the bay far surpasses private, when you consider working conditions. To me, this sounds like a very profitable setup. Do any of you working for the public also do similar? Any problems or issues you have encountered?

the devils nectar😋 I’m spending the evening drinking as much of a bottle of captain Morgan as I can. I’m watching old movies I used to watch growing up. I’m gonna do some poorly drawn sketches. And let my brain fry watching tiktok. 👋🏻

Yo, we ain't your average gangsters, we're unique, Eating berries, sharing feelings deep. Tapioca pudding drippin', bodies almost bare, Blap blap on thugs who don't appreciate the rare.
Decadent desserts, that's how we roll, Salad with cottage cheese, cuz we know our role. . Homie crapped his pants, yeah, it's a shame, IBS ain't stoppin' his game, with the dames. Rufus, the dawg, with model planes and prayers, Backwards hat, chain swingin', he's one of us players. He goes to church with his mom's on Sunday.
We're a crew like no other, breaking the mold, We also break some winds, So many gassy stories told; Stories of ketchup and fries and meatloaf. We ain't your standard oafs, we sophisticated. I'm pissed, but elated by the diversity out there.
Other crews ain't like us, and it's sad. They too scared to be themselves, like us, We the best in the world, all the fun we had. Got some girls one time, but now just our rhymes, and cancer. We all got terminal brain cancer, Cuz the basement waters full of lead. Soon we be dead, but no regrets. Bet.

29 Female TX area I’m spending the evening drinking as much of a bottle of captain Morgan as I can. I’m watching old movies I used to watch with my mom. I’m gonna do some poorly drawn sketches. And let my brain fry watching tiktok. 👋🏻

im 17/18 52kg and smoked hhc while hungry, i puffed 2 times and on the second one it got bad (smoke stayed in my throat then exhaled.) After 20 mins when i was high my stomach hurted and i was super hungry but couldnt eat i drank alot of water and fell asleep. Now im not high im a little bit conscious still confused, had a meal 2 meatballs with portion of fries, pushed myself to eat didnt vomit the whole time since i got pain in the abdomen. I burp everytime after eating something and drinking water or having gas. Can someone explain to me what is going on should i be worried what should i do and sorry for my english im not really good.

You’re welcome to add more in the comments as i’m sure there’s a bunch i’m forgetting but like
“Can i have the chick fil a meal?”
“give me your chicken salad”
(after having iPOS issues with a guest and the one behind them goes) “did they order the whole store? oh my gosh…”
“thats SO expensive” like maam yes i know i didnt make the prices
when guests will get mad that we only have one shake/frosted size
the word “combo”
me: “would you like a meal?” “no” me: “alright sounds great, and any sauces for that?” “i want fries and a drink”
“what would you like to drink?” “a fountain drink” “…absolutely… which one?” “large”
guests who ask for their splenda mixed in to their drink on drive thru drinks in the middle of a lunch rush
guests who check every single thing on their meal when we already triple checked it and hold up the entire line

Burrito Bowls -
Walnut "meat" and mushroom with a little palmful of pulsed oats ala taco bell
Lettuce
Pico
Palmini rice
Guac
Mexican Lentils
~
Chickpea toona, a staple. Either wraps or low carb toast
~
Breakfast burritos, grilled -
Just egg
Soy curl bacon
Tomato
Onion
Spinach
Avocado
Low carb tortilla
~
Roast Broccoli and spiced cashew dip, probably ranch style dip. Pickled carrots.
~
Chicken fried tofu
~
Chick'n Sandwich Salad -
Lettuce
Pickles
Onion
Alabama White Sauce
Chick'n, whichever brand is on sale
~
Snacks; keto brownies with flax egg, hemp seed pudding, chia seed pudding, fresh berries, berry tart with low carb crumble, sugar free popsicles. Maybe coconut milk pudding, yum.

So I’m making a general check up with my primary doctor soon after a huge anxiety episode and been having weird symptoms not related to GERD (faint, dizzy, just off)
Anyway, I’ve had GERD all my life I think. On occasion I’d get that acid shooting up my esophagus feeling and I love spicy foods, red meats, and beer and wine, so yeah lol.
My main symptoms are every now and then if I have red meats with greasy foods with beewine. I’ll have this painful spasm and sometimes tight chest because of it, also with the acid shooting up sometimes. Other symptoms I think are related is I feel like on the right side of my chest sometimes when running that something is there or whatever.
Anyway what should I ask my doctor? I’m terribly nervous to suggest an endoscopy cause idk if I need one if I get my eating habits under control.
I plan on cutting out beer and wine (wine on special occasions only) and sticking to just whiskey since I heard that causes way less acid. Cutting out fatty fried foods, and just sticking to chicken and salads and veggies, and red meats on occasion
Of course I’m worried about cancer or precancerous conditions. The doctor and medical procedures are quite literally my biggest fear, but I need to face it.
Any tips, or suggestions would help as well.