I had a neighbour who embalmed his own wife.
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What's your demographic?
wrote on last edited by [email protected]AuADHD Transfem enby from Texas with a family history that includes diabetes, cancer, emphysema, and heart failure.
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OP, the pic said an unsettling fact about you, not your neighbor. You need to follow it up with something like, "While he did it, I held my hand over his so he could teach me his techniques." If true, that it would make it an unsettling fact about you. If you don't have anything, though, it happens. I'm not coming up with much at the moment either. And just saying something like "I poop a lot" would do this thread an injustice.
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Slicing raw meat brings me the weirdest joy.
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AuADHD Transfem enby from Texas with a family history that includes diabetes, cancer, emphysema, and heart failure.
Ugh. Family history is a bummer; however, all of those are things you can mostly mitigate with early and frequent screening, and listening to doctors about lifestyle choices. Not like dementia, for which we have very few tools.
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Yep -- It's a gift & a curse.
I find it super easy to put myself in other people's shoes and see what they're going through, but I have a hard time expressing my own feelings. It's turned me into a bit of a loner, but I do have a small circle of people I know & trust that I can be myself with.
I hear ya. I'm participating in a hiring panel and finding it really tough to reject candidates, especially when they're nice. I just feel so much for them.
Hard not to start building a tough shell, take care of yourself
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Do you mean 99.99% fewer humans?
yep! Imagine that. You dying would actually be a major loss in that scenario. Though let's not get any ideas.
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Even when the pedestrian has an active do-not-cross signal?
Maybe a cop would consider it jaywalking, and it's definitely a dick move, but I wasn't taught that there were really exceptions.
They aren't supposed to walk out and if they're already in the road they're supposed to get out asap, but that doesn't make it ok to try and drive by like they aren't in the road with some sort of confidence that it's somehow their job to get out of your way.
At the end of the day they're a sack of cloth, skin, meat, blood, and bones. You're sitting in a carefully engineered multi-ton slab of plastic and metal more similar to an early tank than it is to a horse and buggy, and those already could trample people to death.
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Ooo!
Ok, this isn't nearly as unique or exciting, but the last time I went backpacking with my dad in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness, we were hiking around a lake and saw some really nice deer tracks in the almost muddy soil of the lake shore, like you could make nice molds out of. We go a bit further, and I'm looking at the tracks because they're so pristine, deep, and perfect, and I see a cats paw join the tracks. The paw print was bigger than my hand, and I'm a grown-ass man.
I was half worried about meeting that cat; I'm no tracker, but I suspect the tracks had been made the previous night or that morning. The other half of me was sorry for that deer.
We weren't hunting and had no guns, but I bought a Pelican case for our next trip; that was our last one together, though.
wrote on last edited by [email protected]I always love thinking about what wild cats could do to a person.
I think of what a five pound angry house cat can do to you ... it will roll around like a snake in your hands, dazzled in fur, spiked with razor blades. It will cut and scratch you until you bleed in 20 different places.
Now turn that cat into a 100lb animal that has daggers instead of razor blades.
EDIT: typos from fat fingers on a phone
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Therapy might still be a good idea in the future, trauma can show up in quite unexpected forms.
I'm really glad you're doing better!
Seconding this. I thought I was fine once I made it through college without therapy. Ha! All the shit I'd just bottled up for years was still sitting there, packed nicely in its little bottle, waiting to explode.
Ended up going through a couple years worth of therapy in my late 20s / early 30s
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When I was a kid I had a hypothesis that autistic people simply lacked souls and that that explained their symptoms. (I don't think this anymore)
For what it’s worth, I got a solid laugh out of this. My partner is autistic, and I’m 100% telling them that it’s because they don’t have a soul.
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Ugh. Family history is a bummer; however, all of those are things you can mostly mitigate with early and frequent screening, and listening to doctors about lifestyle choices. Not like dementia, for which we have very few tools.
wrote on last edited by [email protected]Well, before I started hormone therapy I didn't see much need for hope, but these days I'm determined to grow into a cute old fart that inspires the weird queer kids of the future and I'm taking much better care of myself.
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This post did not contain any content.wrote on last edited by [email protected]
In the same year I put my head through a plate glass window (to a shocking lack of injury) I also attempted to lift an engine block off a cherry picker... WITH MY HEAD... to hilarious results.
Well the TBI, seizures and utter disregard of my mother to the suggestion of a neurosurgeon that I needed surgery to relieve swelling at the injury site weren't too funny. The latter is my favorite as she 'treated' me with nightmarish vegetable smoothies consisting of spinach and not much else.
I still hate spinach. And it's been 47 years.
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I realized I was trans in middle school, i said something suicidal to my friend and he told on me. I never really talked to the therapists because my mom was very homophobic. I got put on antidepressants and suppressed my feelings so hard I can hardly remember my childhood.
5 years later my depression went into "full remission" couple of months before I came out. I then 180°d and got sent to the psych ward for suicide ideation this February.The only thing that stopped me from killing myself is the realization that my cat would be rubbing against my body for pets in the ~10 hours it would take for my family to find me. I was planning to buy a knife after work but broke down in the bathroom.
Every time I have ever gotten to that point (not for at least 6 years now), it's been my pets that immediately pulled me back. When I lived alone, I left myself sticky notes in places I would see when I needed them that said things like "your pets love you unconditionally" and "you're Maya's (my dog at the time. She's died of old age at 15 since then) whole world"
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I kicked a decrepit german shepard to death.
::: spoiler WHY?!
Wasn't my fault really, the owner had trained his dog to be aggressive and I was deathly afraid of dogs. The animal escaped the leash and charged me, I don't know if it would have bitten me, but I instinctively kicked it in the face... I'm an extremely overweight guy and was scared shitless, that's propably why my leg had some serious power behind it, so I kicked that poor puppies snout straight into its braincase.Still have nightmares of that day. Good news is: I have sinced learned to be less afraid and love dogs now. I even regularly put my hand down the throat of a huge japanese Akita Inu who loves me to death and pull on his teeth in play.
:::You have an unconditional right to self defense against a dog.
And I loooooove dogs.
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just a guess, but it could be because kids are dumb and we were all kids once trying to figure out the world with no experience. And then on top of that we tend to remember the cringe moments about ourselves even though those moments were likely an after thought to those around us.
Also, just guessing, there was a crappy role model or two.
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Are you one of those 4-cones people?
Even they see it as a pinkish-purpley-red.
It's not that.
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Or simply pissed it off enough to attack. It's a gamble antagonizing any predator when you do not have the means to actually defend yourself.
Polar bears, unlike other bears, will actively prey upon humans, given the opportunity. Such an encounter is a "do everything that you can to dissuade it" sort of situation. Food is hard to come by in the North, if a polar bear gets within shotgun range, it's almost certainly going for a snack.
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I always love thinking about what wild cats could do to a person.
I think of what a five pound angry house cat can do to you ... it will roll around like a snake in your hands, dazzled in fur, spiked with razor blades. It will cut and scratch you until you bleed in 20 different places.
Now turn that cat into a 100lb animal that has daggers instead of razor blades.
EDIT: typos from fat fingers on a phone
My favorite story stems from a park ranger in Oregon (IIRC) who was giving a tour, and they were carrying a 15' (5m) long pole. As were about halfway through, they were taking about cougars, and they stopped next to a tree, and they explained that if a cougar is after you, climbing a tree is not a recommended defense; the pole was a demonstration of how high an adult cougar can jump, straight up.
Those of us with house cats were not surprised, but still. It helped put things into perspective.
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Quick clarification question. Ready to, or mentally prepared for death?
wrote on last edited by [email protected]Not sure what the difference is, except one implies the other and not vice versa. I'm not planning it, it's just okay if it happens. Wouldn't say I'm mentally prepared, but I hope it's fast enough.
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A bit over a decade ago, I was motorcycle camping on a solo trip down the US West coast. Being a bit on the cheap side and preferring wilderness, I decided to make use of the Bureau of Land Management camp sites, where possible. They are free, somewhat remote and quiet (no hookups for RVs or any of that), which I really appreciate.
While heading South through Northern California, I stopped at the one near Ukiah, had a quick dinner, and went to sleep in my 2-person tent that I had been using for the trip. For some reason, I had my laptop out - maybe trying to look at some helmet cam footage. And, when I went to sleep, I was lazy and just suspended it, leaving its power LEDs slowly blinking.
I was awoken in the middle of the night by an animal rather forcefully trying to get through the side of my tent. I shouted and banged on the handle of my hatchet (hollow, glass-filled nylon, so it could be used to make rather significant noise). The animal took off, rather loudly through the brush near the camp site. My laptop, with blinking LEDs was right next to the wall of the tent where my "visitor" had been trying to gain entrance. So, I completely shutdown the laptop, ensuring that there was no blinking and failed to get any more meaningful sleep.
The next morning, once it was light out, I warily looked outside my tent to be sure that my "visitor" wasn't waiting for me. Then, surveyed the site with hatchet in hand and heavy sheath knife on my belt (Morakniv Companion - highly recommended in carbon steel as it's a great knife and still somehow cheap). All around the picnic table where I had cooked my curried lentil dinner were the large and unmistakable tracks of my large feline "visitor". Not wanting to stick around in case the mountain lion decided to come by to investigate some more, I quickly broke camp and made my way back to the road, skipping my planned breakfast for diner food.
As one can reasonably expect from this experience, I camped at the same campground on my way back North and return there to camp fairly regularly.
