My mother and only safe person died in the beginning of summer when I was a child. Each spring I get an extreme reaction of sorrow, abandonment issues, despair. It locks me down, and give me high anxiety.
When the world starts live, is when I die. When children is outside playing and laughing, is when I’m completely shut down. And I don’t know how to get out of this “state” of being.
There’s certain flowers and smells that also trigger this emotional flashbacks of death. I feel so lonely and scared.
My dad left me alone after the funeral for 1,5 months. I got raped, did have much food and my friends all stopped talking to me. I grew up in a rich country, in a neighborhood in the middle class. Yet my story sounds like some rare poor American story.
I don’t have CPTSD on paper, I have BPD. But I’m sure I have CPTSD. My mother was sick for my whole childhood and we never knew if she’d survived when I was at school. Many times she had been driven to the emergency and wasn’t home when I got there.
I had to figure out on my own that what I have is emotional flashbacks. And I don’t know how to stop them? I don’t know what to do to get “out of it”.
All I want to do is to call my abusive ex and have him soothe me. But I can’t, people have been warning me about him for too long now, telling me they’ve seen him in action being abusive towards me. So I guess, even if I’m this horrible person, maybe I didn’t make him go mad. Maybe he was already mad and I was an easy victim.
I cannot continue with this life this way. How do I heal? I’ve got a therapist but they only focus on my BPD, even if I keep telling them my symptoms comes from a different place and needs different treatment.
Please help , any comment what so ever will help.

Last December I lost my uncle, we're not that close but it reminded me so much of my grandmother and because I'm studying abroad, I couldn't go back home for his funeral which makes me so sad. Same december, few days later I got asthma attack that haven't occurred in many years. Just this year, I have to deal with a friend of mine who is suicidal and who constantly tell me he wants to kill himself, tell me how he harm himself which makes me as someone who was suicidal before very triggered, and the week after I got appendicitis which I had to go surgery to get it removed.
Sometimes I feel weak because I keep having these kind of troubles and all I want to do is cry and give up as I see all my friends are doing okay. Am I doing okay?

I suppose everyone has one, at some point or another we all will have to sit in a waiting room while a loved one is in surgery. I just watched the episode again, and I've been thinking about it a lot recently, as both of my parents have spent more than a bit of time in hospitals due to various health problems. My mother died six years ago, after a protracted cancer battle; I imagine my dad's reaction was identical to Martin's, upon hearing the diagnosis. Especially coming home from my father's funeral on Wednesday, I kept thinking about that scene, and I think one of the reasons Martin is my favorite character is because he reminds me so much of my dad. Who was not a fan of the show, just like Martin most likely wouldn't have been; but those salt of the Earth-type guys make the best fathers, they keep you down to Earth.
Thank you, Dad. I'm glad I have things and characters like Martin to remind me of you.

I (26F) had walked out of the house because I was fed up with everyone and everything.....let me start from the start......
I have been with my boyfriend (M25) for 5 years, just with in the few past years he was comming clean about him, how he felt and stuff he hid from me, example: our first two years we were togeather he did not love me because I was not working at the time, I was not showing the potential and he knew a girl and he expressed his feelings for her while we're were togeather and when I found out he had lied about it...
There is more, but I want to get to the point of this story...
With in the past almost 2 years at my job I had experience alot of truma, I am a caregiver, my co workers and I had a rough year and yet today we are battling alot within our own personal circles, to begun with is we had covid in October of 2021 and lost two consumers ( in hospitals) and in March of 2022 I jad experience my first death, I have been to funerals, but I have never been with a family member as they past, this consumer had past peacefully which helped me understand that they were no longer in pain and that she left this earth knowing she was taken care of and loved by family.... flash forward to October of 2022 I found out I was pregnant..... 31-34 weeks along... I was in shock and surprised and happy because me and my boyfriend had a few miscarriages so I was excited.
a week befor I had my baby I was passing meds and getting the consumers ready for the day, this consumer was wheelchair bound with other disables so I had to get them up, bathroom, change clothes and fed them for they were on a puree diet, I went into the bedroom and I called their name, no answer, I called again, no movement, I turned the lights on and they were on their side and I lightly shook their arm and called their name again thinking they were in deep deep sleep... I rolled them over... and they were gone... I freeze and panic I ran very pregnant to the office and called hospice, manager, shift leader...
now I know what your thinking, why dident I do CPR, because the consumer was on hospice due to disability and had a DNR( and idk of this is correct and idk if this is the same for every state, Im in Michigan) we were told if a consumer has a DNR and ON HOSPICE, you can not do CPR.
I was sobbing on the drive home, I called my boyfriend and let him know what happend and it scared me. Week later we went to the hospital and was haveing a hard time getting a OBGYN because alot of them don't except pregnancy this far along so he took me to the hospital, I was stressed so I had high blood pressure and was kept over night so I wouldn't turn into pre-eclampsia, my water had broke the night and I had my beautiful baby girl, flash forward to February and everyone had noticed that I have changed... but I was afraid to admit how I felt because it did feel embarrassing and I was sappose to have a strong head on me.
I was struggling with Post Parduim Depression, depression, anexity, PTSD and I had constant thoughts about ending my life, when my bf and his dad sat me down to talk they had no idea this is how I felt and my boyfriend had taken me to the hospital.
Few weeks ago I went to a behavioral clinic because for the past month I kept telling my boyfriend on how I felt, and he wouldn't talk to me, we ended up getting into a huge fight several times, and we both agreed I should go... and I was sappose to go to GHS ( Genesee health system) on Monday but...my day turned very shitty...
My boyfriends step mom was going off because of very of things, he son is a asshole, lack of chores being done, pop shots at everyone and attacking everyone, and then she came out and said " I got the water ready for you, the dishes needed to be done, I'm not asking, shit is going to change" that was when I had enough, she has always made pop shots at everyone, doesn't do much around the house ( does have bad hips and is getting ready to do surgery) but this is everyday, even when we ALL have worked hard on the house and done everything she has asked.
Long story short, I was talking to my boyfriend because I was frustrated and he said " if you feel like that then go", I said " ok", got up grabbed my bag, packed worked cloths, underwater and socks and was getting ready to walk out of the door and headed to work, step mom and now boyfriends dad are arguing, which sets me off ( I basicly crouch down and cry and cover my head) and I looked at my boyfriend and I said I was ready to go when he was, we get into the jeep, we drive and I am of course am sobbing, for the simple fact I had to leave my daughter there because I was homeless at this point and it broke my heart that I had to leave because I would rather stay alive, then end my life and rot in a box 6 feet below, she needed me so I left so I can fix myself, my mind set for her, and be a good mom for my daughter.
my bf pulled over at school ball park, we talked and then I got out and begun to walk while it was a mix of snow and rain( hate Michigan weather) and I walked, I had walked to the little part of the town we lived by the school and my bf called me, he asked were I was and that his dad said to come and get me so us four adults can talk, and when he found out that my bf had "dropped me off" ( even though it was my choice and I needed to clear my head) and I couldn't hold it back and I yelled on the phone and was bawling because I had enough, I was upset, heartbroken and honestly I dident want to go back, he got pissed and hung up on me.... I was still walking and I took a few moments to breath and called him back and decided to go back.
After a bit all four of us talked, I even tried to but it was almost about me not letting the walls down, I do have an issue with trusting people and being opend because I have had ALOT of truma, I am getting better but it still I hard, my bf took me to work ( normally I drive but I was emotional hot mess) and he told me to think about everything rather if I'm comming home or leaveing.... and he had me come up with a pro or cons list and everything pointed to pro...but at the same time my head and hurt are fighting eachother, it's 4 am and he sappose to be here at 7 am to pick me up.... and idk what to do.... idk if rather to go back...and if I did.... what would I have to do there and then?
Sorry I wrote a book but I needed to get this off my chest, my chest is hurting due to the heart palpitations and my head and heart are equal at this point....thanks
Edit: I know I'm not perfect, or an angel, and I know what my part has played into this whole shit hole of a mess, which is why I am getting the help, and i know I am equally at fault, but it jas gone on for too long and now that my mentle health has gone down the drain and I'm trying to heal and move forward and I felt like I can, I was called immature for leaving but I honestly think I did the most grown up by leaving and taking myself out of a situation so I don't want to go down hill further and to be able to be happy and be able to be a mother to my daughter, what also got me though is when I said I had to go get ready for work step mom yelled " yep go-ahead and run away" and my bf and his dad both said that I was getting ready for work... and that felt like a knife in the gut..

I work retail in a pretty busy part of town. I'm scheduled almost everyday and often end up working late into the night. I live pretty close to the store; so I've always walked to and from. On this particular night, it was already in the am. The usually crowded sidewalks were now barren. I was alone out here and honestly…it felt pretty creepy. As I continued to walk, I noticed a guy standing to himself. He seemed kinda strange, all fidgety and staring at the ground. He was dressed in all black and had a hood on, so I couldn't see his face. He made me feel uncomfortable, like I should've taken a different path.
Then again, I had been working all day. I wanted to go home and I wasn't gonna let some weirdo worry me. So I switched my attention to my phone and walked right past him. I wished that was the end of our meeting; but it was just beginning. "Hey man, got a smoke", he asked. I didn't smoke, so I shook my head and kept walking. What happened next though, was downright terrifying. As the guy casually started to follow me. Whats worse, was that I finally got a glimpse at his face…or lack thereof. This freak was wearing a Halloween mask in April. It was one of those scary orange pumpkin mask with bloody teeth. In fact, I think our store sold them.
Knowing his intentions weren't good, I started to walk faster. And of course, he did the same. I considered myself to be a brave guy, and I was getting sick of his game. So I turned around and gave this loser a piece of my mind. "Get out of here before I hurt you…freak!!". Instead of scaring him like I'd hoped; my words seemed to excite the man. "Oooh tough guy, this is gonna be fun", he chuckled. He then pulled an extremely long kitchen knife from his jacket and held it in the air.
My first and only instinct was to run and not stop. He seemed to enjoy this; as he pursued me while giggling like an excited child. I ran from this freak at full speed, but he didn't have any issues keeping up with me. I had never been in the best of shape; and maybe tonight I was paying for it. Thankfully, I saw an alleyway as I was fleeing. I quickly took a turn and sprinted into the darkness. Figuring he wasn't far behind; I dived behind a dumpster for cover. By this point I was out of breath; but I had to stay quiet. I covered my mouth and prayed for this psycho to go away. Unfortunately for me, I heard footsteps coming in my direction. I poked my head out and saw him dragging his knife down a brick wall. He then let out another twisted giggle before speaking again.
"A game of hide and seek? Sounds like a blast my little piggie". He then started to playfully prance around like a ballerina. Humming an upbeat tune while searching for me. There was no other word to describe his behavior except for absolute madness. This masked psychopath was having the time of his life chasing after me. Pretty soon he'd approach my hiding spot, it was safe to say that I was terrified. What happened next however, was something neither of us expected. As a seemingly drunk homeless man stumbled onto the scene. He held a bottle of liquor and gave the psycho a ticked off look. "Hey man, this is my territory here! You need to roll on before you get hurt".
Clearly the old man didn't know what kind of person he was dealing with. Seeing the creepy jack-o-lantern mask made him take a step back. "Hey man, are you on something?", the guy asked. Saying nothing, my stalker approached the man with his knife drawn. I then watched in horror as he plunged his blade into the man's stomach. I watched helplessly as he stabbed this innocent old guy over and over. The blood gushed out like a fountain; his groans of pain were something I'd never forget. I should've tried to help the guy; but I was in utter shock. Watching the life slowly leave this person's body was something I didn't want to see.
Proud of his work; the killer began smearing the fresh crimson onto his mask. Afterwards he let out this creepy moan; feeling utter bliss from killing someone. I couldn't watch anymore; I had to get out of here now! I darted from behind the dumpster in an attempt to escape. Unfortunately though, the killer was closer to me than I thought. As he reached out and slashed my back with his already blood soaked knife. I yelled out in pain, but I did not stop moving. One could only imagine what he'd do if I did. On top of my current circumstances; I had already worked an eight hour shift. I was utterly exhausted and didn't know how much longer I could run. Meanwhile my stalker kept pursuing me; like his stamina was infinite.
It was only a matter of time before I ended up his second victim. Thankfully, as if fate wanted me to survive this night. I came upon a police station, the relief I felt was unreal. Naturally I dashed up the steps and entered into this safe haven. Inside officers sat around talking and sipping late night cups of coffee. I looked back with a smile; thinking my worries were over. However, this nightmare wouldn't end just yet. As the killer ran into the station after me; knife drawn and everything. He had to be out of his mind; it's as if the only thing that mattered to him was taking my life. "Hey, that freak's trying to kill me!!", I yelled out. The officers were quick to react and sprung into action. Within seconds tasers were drawn and the pumpkin masked killer was brought to his knees.
I swear he'd been hit about six times; regardless of this…he kept coming. Now on the ground, he gripped his knife and began crawling towards me. The officers were in shock; meanwhile I was freaking petrified. He crawled and crawled, wanting so desperately to reach me. Thankfully, his body would succumb to all of the electricity flowing through his veins. As he passed out right in front of me; it was finally over. The cops cuffed him up and pulled his mask off. His face was covered in deep scratches and sores. His curly red hair was matted and covered in grease. Everyone could tell this guy was sick; maybe he was on something.
I'd soon be brought to the hospital where I received eight stitches in my back. In the following weeks a lot happened. I was questioned by police, got to pay my respects at the old man's funeral. But things culminated when the trial started. I testified and recounted the entire bloody story. Meanwhile the killer sat with a huge smile as I took the stand. It turned out that he was a nutcase who was extremely obsessed with serial killers. He idolized people that brutally murdered others and wanted to start his own legacy.
Thankfully his bloody dream would never be realized. As he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in an asylum. I'll never forget his final words to me before being taken away in shackles. "Goodbye my little piggie, I'm gonna miss you!!!". I'd never see him again after that. While I was relieved, my life quickly changed. I joined a gym and got into shape; I also started taking self defense classes. I even carried a concealed weapon in case all else failed. I refused to become another statistic. The terror that I felt that night would not define who I am. Next time I was going to be ready, I was going to survive…no matter what.

I work retail in a pretty busy part of town. I'm scheduled almost everyday and often end up working late into the night. I live pretty close to the store; so I've always walked to and from. On this particular night, it was already in the am. The usually crowded sidewalks were now barren. I was alone out here and honestly…it felt pretty creepy. As I continued to walk, I noticed a guy standing to himself. He seemed kinda strange, all fidgety and staring at the ground. He was dressed in all black and had a hood on, so I couldn't see his face. He made me feel uncomfortable, like I should've taken a different path.
Then again, I had been working all day. I wanted to go home and I wasn't gonna let some weirdo worry me. So I switched my attention to my phone and walked right past him. I wished that was the end of our meeting; but it was just beginning. "Hey man, got a smoke", he asked. I didn't smoke, so I shook my head and kept walking. What happened next though, was downright terrifying. As the guy casually started to follow me. Whats worse, was that I finally got a glimpse at his face…or lack thereof. This freak was wearing a Halloween mask in April. It was one of those scary orange pumpkin mask with bloody teeth. In fact, I think our store sold them.
Knowing his intentions weren't good, I started to walk faster. And of course, he did the same. I considered myself to be a brave guy, and I was getting sick of his game. So I turned around and gave this loser a piece of my mind. "Get out of here before I hurt you…freak!!". Instead of scaring him like I'd hoped; my words seemed to excite the man. "Oooh tough guy, this is gonna be fun", he chuckled. He then pulled an extremely long kitchen knife from his jacket and held it in the air.
My first and only instinct was to run and not stop. He seemed to enjoy this; as he pursued me while giggling like an excited child. I ran from this freak at full speed, but he didn't have any issues keeping up with me. I had never been in the best of shape; and maybe tonight I was paying for it. Thankfully, I saw an alleyway as I was fleeing. I quickly took a turn and sprinted into the darkness. Figuring he wasn't far behind; I dived behind a dumpster for cover. By this point I was out of breath; but I had to stay quiet. I covered my mouth and prayed for this psycho to go away. Unfortunately for me, I heard footsteps coming in my direction. I poked my head out and saw him dragging his knife down a brick wall. He then let out another twisted giggle before speaking again.
"A game of hide and seek? Sounds like a blast my little piggie". He then started to playfully prance around like a ballerina. Humming an upbeat tune while searching for me. There was no other word to describe his behavior except for absolute madness. This masked psychopath was having the time of his life chasing after me. Pretty soon he'd approach my hiding spot, it was safe to say that I was terrified. What happened next however, was something neither of us expected. As a seemingly drunk homeless man stumbled onto the scene. He held a bottle of liquor and gave the psycho a ticked off look. "Hey man, this is my territory here! You need to roll on before you get hurt".
Clearly the old man didn't know what kind of person he was dealing with. Seeing the creepy jack-o-lantern mask made him take a step back. "Hey man, are you on something?", the guy asked. Saying nothing, my stalker approached the man with his knife drawn. I then watched in horror as he plunged his blade into the man's stomach. I watched helplessly as he stabbed this innocent old guy over and over. The blood gushed out like a fountain; his groans of pain were something I'd never forget. I should've tried to help the guy; but I was in utter shock. Watching the life slowly leave this person's body was something I didn't want to see.
Proud of his work; the killer began smearing the fresh crimson onto his mask. Afterwards he let out this creepy moan; feeling utter bliss from killing someone. I couldn't watch anymore; I had to get out of here now! I darted from behind the dumpster in an attempt to escape. Unfortunately though, the killer was closer to me than I thought. As he reached out and slashed my back with his already blood soaked knife. I yelled out in pain, but I did not stop moving. One could only imagine what he'd do if I did. On top of my current circumstances; I had already worked an eight hour shift. I was utterly exhausted and didn't know how much longer I could run. Meanwhile my stalker kept pursuing me; like his stamina was infinite.
It was only a matter of time before I ended up his second victim. Thankfully, as if fate wanted me to survive this night. I came upon a police station, the relief I felt was unreal. Naturally I dashed up the steps and entered into this safe haven. Inside officers sat around talking and sipping late night cups of coffee. I looked back with a smile; thinking my worries were over. However, this nightmare wouldn't end just yet. As the killer ran into the station after me; knife drawn and everything. He had to be out of his mind; it's as if the only thing that mattered to him was taking my life. "Hey, that freak's trying to kill me!!", I yelled out. The officers were quick to react and sprung into action. Within seconds tasers were drawn and the pumpkin masked killer was brought to his knees.
I swear he'd been hit about six times; regardless of this…he kept coming. Now on the ground, he gripped his knife and began crawling towards me. The officers were in shock; meanwhile I was freaking petrified. He crawled and crawled, wanting so desperately to reach me. Thankfully, his body would succumb to all of the electricity flowing through his veins. As he passed out right in front of me; it was finally over. The cops cuffed him up and pulled his mask off. His face was covered in deep scratches and sores. His curly red hair was matted and covered in grease. Everyone could tell this guy was sick; maybe he was on something.
I'd soon be brought to the hospital where I received eight stitches in my back. In the following weeks a lot happened. I was questioned by police, got to pay my respects at the old man's funeral. But things culminated when the trial started. I testified and recounted the entire bloody story. Meanwhile the killer sat with a huge smile as I took the stand. It turned out that he was a nutcase who was extremely obsessed with serial killers. He idolized people that brutally murdered others and wanted to start his own legacy.
Thankfully his bloody dream would never be realized. As he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in an asylum. I'll never forget his final words to me before being taken away in shackles. "Goodbye my little piggie, I'm gonna miss you!!!". I'd never see him again after that. While I was relieved, my life quickly changed. I joined a gym and got into shape; I also started taking self defense classes. I even carried a concealed weapon in case all else failed. I refused to become another statistic. The terror that I felt that night would not define who I am. Next time I was going to be ready, I was going to survive…no matter what.

I need a second opinion from a professional veterinarian.
My baby boy Juno was 12.5 years old and he was diagnosed with CHF back in February. More specifically Mitral Valve Disease, Stage C. He was stable on his heart medications (Pimobendan + Furosemide). It was until late February, 3 weeks after his first heart failure episode (he recovered from that) that he was rushed into the ER for his second heart failure episode. He had a syncopal collapse. I paid for a 24 hour stabilization, but not even 6 hours into the hospitalization they said he was "about to pass soon" and "have cardiac arrest". They did tell me that he was resistant to the medication, but it does not explain why they rushed the euthanasia. I know CHF causes blood and fluid to backup into the lungs.
What I don't understand is that when I met him in the oxygen tank, he looked calm and still conscious, and very much alive, except some blood-tinged saliva around his nose. What angers me is why did they rush me into euthanizing him? He was calm, able to breathe in oxygen, and relaxed in the oxygen tank and they did not bother utilizing the remaining 18 hours of the oxygen supplementation. To say I am devastated, is a complete understatement. I was gutted and paralyzed by the whole veterinary team and doctors on the case because they were pushing me to put him down the same day he was admitted. They were planning my dog's funeral before explaining their options or Plan B. I would gladly have a home euthanasia if he were to pass, but they rushed me to put him down at the ER on same day. It was a busy, chaotic, and stressful veterinary hospital, so it still brings me a great deal of pain and guilt for letting him go in a place where he was stressed, scared, and terrified. Also I admitted him to the ER not to put him down, but stabilize him. Dogs with CHF can still live fulfilling lives, with medication management and consistent treatment. Why was my dog not given this opportunity? He passed away literally 3 weeks after his diagnosis, whereas dogs diagnosed with CHF statistically live at least 6 months up to 2 years. I am heartbroken. I don't understand. Why? Just Why?
I regret so much for not fighting for my boy. He deserved a better send off than at the ER where he was scared and anxious. I keep on replaying this scene over and over again. Why did I not fight back and tell them to keep him there in the oxygen tank? He was calmer in there. Please I need your veterinary input? I understand if I am thinking irrationally because I am emotionally stricken with grief. Please someone give me their own perspective. I am being eaten away by guilt.

Whenever I talk about my Dad it brings me comfort, even a year after he passed away. I find it hard to move on still even though it's been a year. I feel stuck in time in a way, I remember it all; how he got sicker, the month before he died, the week before he died, the days leading up to it, the day he died in the hospital, the funeral, everything. I find it hard to move on and in a way I dont want to move on. I know a cliché is that people say our loved ones would want us to move on and live our life, and to an extent I agree; I do feel like my Dad would want to see me happy and enjoying my life. He always worried about me and wanted to see me happy, and he hated to see me sad. But I find it hard to be cheerful sometimes. My Dad could always cheer me up and make me happy, he was always so encouraging; my advocate, my rock. Without him I find it hard to be happy.
I don't have the strongest support system; I've had a lot of death in my family. Lots of my aunts and uncles have passed away and it's had an affect on my entire family; we all used to have these huge family get together and I would see my aunts and uncles and cousins and other relatives. I barely see any of my cousins now because so many of the people who held the family together are gone. So i dont really have that support in my family. I don't have a lot of friends either, and the friends I do have I feel are tired of hearing about the grief. They don't know what to say.
I find refuge when I can talk about my Dad and tell his story. My Dad was basically like my best friend. Growing up, we were always together. He was the parent i went to for everything; comfort, entertainment, advice, spending time together. He could be anyone you needed him to be; someone to cry to, someone you could just enjoy each others presence with in silence, someone to laugh with, and someone to cheer you up and give you the best advice. I think about his funeral and how nice it was to share pictures and stories of him; I wrote his eulogy and I often think about how there will never be another moment like that.
I wish I could talk with more people about it and have them understand. I'm grateful for this forum here to be able to post and talk about my Dad. I do have coworkers who have been really amazing also thinking about it with my grief. But I just wish I could have that closeness with my family and friends to talk about it. My dad is on my mind all the time.
I also feel like for me I want to be able to talk about him more because for a while before he passed, our relationship got rocky and I wasn't as close to him as I used to be when I was younger. He was an alcoholic and I didn't want to enable him by buying him beer or giving him money no matter how much he begged and pleaded for it. He was already getting really sick and his drinking habits really tore us apart and I feel really guilty for how I treated him because of it. I would get so angry with him, I would ignore him sometimes or avoid him. I got closure when he died, I got to say my goodbyes and told him how much I love him and how sorry I was when he was still conscious. So I feel like when I talk about him it mends our relationship. It's funny because when he died I couldn't remember why I was so angry; I can barely remember any of those hard times we had. I just keep thinking of the good times and what a great dad he was and how I'll never get that back and how much I took that for granted.
No one to cry to. No one I can go sit outside with and shoot the shit. No one I can go to late at night to talk because we were both night owls and he was always awake at odd hours. No one I can go to for that comfort or reassurance. Only getting to see him in dreams and not being able to stay there, or the dreams aren't coherent enough. I miss spending time with my Dad so much. I just wish people would talk with me about him. People that I know know him. I'm grateful to be able to talk with my coworkers about him (I work at a Group Home he used to live at in his own youth). But I wish people in my family who knew him would talk with me about him. I want to share memories, share pictures. I hate that after a few weeks when someone dies, all the "I'll be there for you!" just disappears. I don't know what to do without my best friend, so talking about him is the best I can do to make up for it.

I'm not a mortician. I recently attended a viewing at a funeral home and the whole time I could hear loud sounds from the back area during the service that sounded like someone jumping on a bed almost.
Just asking out of curiosity what that noise could be (I'm assuming it has something to do with treating dead bodies). I hope this is an appropriate place to ask

Hiya! So here's my whole deal: I'm a 22-year-old college senior. I struggled a lot with STEM in high school, so I decided to throw my hand into the arts when I managed to get into a pretty good school. Fast forward past a lockdown, a mental breakdown, and spending most of my last summer planning a funeral, and I am now staring down the barrel of graduation.
I'm about to graduate with two majors, One in Film Production, and the other in digital media science. I chose the latter as a backup, with some extra certification post-high school that major can open up a good few doors like if I were to go into UX/UI for instance.
Originally my plan was to graduate and become a video editor. I kinda hated the idea of going corporate and thought I could just become a freelancer. Unfortunately, turns out that in the middle of a pandemic, most classes regarding in-person videography are first on the cutting board. While I still got an education, I feel fairly unprepared in some aspects to go into video, though I do have opportunities to strengthen my resume(my mom runs a media company and i've helped cut videos before and for my final project I'm directing a brief series of advertisements for an App I'm leading the development of.)
The issue is, as I finish up school, I'm honestly not completely clear on what my life path should be. I thought i wanted to do video, then I thought maybe Ux/UI, then I thought maybe becoming a producer in the game world (i have a lot of contacts in the games industry). But now? I'm just kinda blanking. I know I'll need to either use my network or get better certification for employment, but as I think about my future I'm just drawing a total blank.
Kicker is, and this is the part I'm too embarrassed to talk to friends about, I come from money. My family is pretty much willing to support me no matter what I do and is happy to take care of things like rent until I figure out a permanent solution. I have no student loans and am incredibly grateful/cognizant of my huge amount of privilege. Obviously, this will change if I make no progress toward anything, and I also really do not want to be a leech off of their success.
Right now, my main future plan that'll probably happen in a few months is to move in with my partner. He lives kind of far away, but the fam approves and I figure it's better to go somewhere else than just stew at home with these feelings.
I basically have a buncha weird skills that I've picked up that when properly formatted on a resume, feel like they'd get me a job SOMEWHERE, but I'm still just not sure where somewhere even is. I've boiled it down to a few paths
Focus on video: spend time after college making more projects to add to my portfolio, use connections to get a job(hopefully without having to move to new york), and eventually go freelance.
Ux/ui: Use my DMS degree and take a certification program after school, finish up in 6 months, make another project to show what I can do, then apply around Seattle. Ideally, try to settle into a WFM position from there.
Management: Take some certification courses is management software and weigh my experience leading a variety of software-related projects(I've been put into way too many leadership positions during my time as a student and have experience setting up communications between parties to get a project done). Get a job and hopefully sink into a hybrid position.
Writing: I enjoy writing in a professional sense, and know people in the industry who might be able to help me get an in. This is something I'm the least knowledgeable about and would have to do further research.
Grad school: Spend a year working part-time and on personal projects before trying my hand at getting a phd in one of the above topics. This one's a big probably not since this feels like a very bad idea.
On one hand, I know a lot of other students who feel aimless like myself, so I not I'm not on my own. on the other, I hate feeling judged for feeling so unprepared, if I could've done it all again I would have gone to a different college(i wanted to go to a more technical school but the family insisted I attend one for "the prestige"). I feel overall like a disaster and am just embarrassed that my life is such a mess at 22. This should be the point in my life where I have everything figured out and I wanna start moving forward.

Looking for a Funeral home to film in for a short film or places that can pass for one. Obviously not filming an actual service but rooms to rent out for filming. Any leads would be great!

Hi, I’m new to Reddit but was suggested to come here for advice.
So I have 4 brothers, all older. My husband has 4 brothers as well. I’ve been married for 10 years been with my husband for almost 20 (since childhood). Providing these details, to basically say, our families are so intertwined.
All of us live in the same area. Our kids play and go to school together, we see each other a lot. I love our life.
Once a month, we do a huge adults only group dinner then we tend to branch off into husbands and wives and just sit around and talk about life. We have been doing this for years. One of the cardinal rules is, like our marital bed unless it’s life threatening, what is said in those meetings stays there and is sacred. That being said, on the wives end, I think the worst I’ve heard is how one of my SIL’s from my husbands side wishes she would have waited to marry my BIL because the growing pains were rough (teen pregnancy-shotgun wedding).
Anyway, we had our last meeting last weekend. We had some drinks and edibles (legal in our state. All the kids were being taken care of for the night with the grandparents and not present).
Since that time, my husband had been really distant. I struggle with mental illness and I’m really sensitive to these shifts. So I thought I had done something. Finally last night I made him tell me what was wrong. He told me that my brother (the one who is staunchly anti cheating to the point he didn’t go to our fathers funeral because he cheated on his mom with my mom and was with my mom until she died) confessed while high last night that he’s been sleeping with a co-worker (they are teachers) for the past 3 years. This woman he’s has integrated into our lives. She’s been at family functions and even a couple of these parties with her husband.
I am in shock and disgusted. Not just for my SIL and nieces, but also for the woman’s husband. He and I fought cancer together during the pandemic and so I consider him to be family. Her too. My brother and I are extremely close, but I also love my SIL. They’ve been married for almost 9 years, together for 13-14. Shes my sister.
My husband is struggling. He and my brother are so so close. His mom cheated on his dad and his dad drank himself to death. He feels guilty for telling me because he feels like he’s betraying my brother and the rules of the group. I don’t know if I’m wrong but I don’t feel like he broke the rule because I feel like infidelity is life threatening. Maybe not fatally but it threatens the foundation of your current life. Also I’m of the mind that cheaters don’t get to feel betrayal when it comes to the consequences.
Anyway, my brother is asking my husband not to tell. But he has, I wouldn’t have forgiven me if he didn’t. My family is all in my house right now. I told the other woman not to come. I want to tell my SIL (obviously not in front of everyone), my husband says she deserves to know but we shouldn’t be the ones to tell. He’s been telling my brother to confess but my brother says he needs time.
I don’t want to shatter anyone’s world, I’ve never dealt with this. I feel sick having this knowledge and watching my brother pretending to be this great man. He looked upset when I said the other woman wasn’t coming. Her husbands cancer is back and I want to tell him because he has a right to know as well as no immune system but she’s also his only support. But I can’t hold this in.
Any advice? I feel like shit because I have 0 desire to protect my brother.
EDIT: So my husband was able to get more information from my brother. I’m even more disgusted. Some of the times they were hooking up, my sister in law was at home dealing with a very colicky baby and he was “busy with work” there were times when her husband was in the hospital and they were hooking up.
We have decided to tell him (the other woman has said that she won’t tell him herself) and allow him to move in with us if he needs. My brother has to tell his wife tonight. We have their kids. I told him if he doesn’t tell her himself I will tell her tomorrow when she comes to get the kids.
He planned to sneak off with her tonight. My brother has told us we are ruining his life. Tried to say that we would be doing more damage to a cancer patient etc. I reminded him that by them being reckless they are endangering his life and betraying multiple foundations.
I did snap and tell him he’s no better than our father he hated. He’s a horrible human and I will help her clean him out. My best friend is a divorce attorney and is going to put together some resources for my SIL if she decides to divorce.
I’m still reeling but I feel so badly for my sister in law , the husband and the kids.

My mom (60) lost her mother, my grandma just a couple weeks ago. I (26F) housesat and dog sat for her while she was out of the country taking care of funeral arrangements.
I flew halfway across the country and requested two weeks of remote work to help her. I’ve tended to her house, her 4 pets, booked her overnight lodging for her return trip and booked her a lyft back home from the airport. I held her and we cried together when we got the news. I made sure she ate and went to bed and slept beside her the night before she left. I’ve asked her how she is doing.
I should also mention that two years ago my dad (56) passed away unexpectedly. It was devastating for all of us. She has a loooong history of making her emotional state everyone else’s problem and responsibility, and punishing those around her if she is not appeased to her liking. She expects her loved ones to emotionally regulate for her. Losing my dad was an extreme exercise in this. She was sobbing inconsolably everyday, and my sister and I, who ALSO lost someone we fiercely loved, were forced to set aside our own processing and grief to comfort her and to bring her back to reality. At a point, my sister seriously wondered if she was suicidal. She constantly mentioned not wanting to be “here” anymore. She also became very hostile, critical, and demanding of me and my sister and other folks who were trying to help. She’s decided to pick up this pattern again.
I empathize with her grief. I am also grieving. But she acts like her pain is the only pain that matters, in grief and in general. And I’ve dealt with this behavior for years and it drives me insane. She desperately needs therapy but does not believe in it and criticized me for going for a time after my dad passed away.
She accosted me on the phone this morning for what was simply a genuine miscommunication and hung up on me. I tried having a levelheaded conversation about the misunderstanding and she hung up on me again. I thought about letting it slide but her shitty behavior towards family has gone unchecked for a long time and I’m not a child anymore so I feel more empowered to call her out now. I told her i didn’t appreciate how she spoke to me on the phone and that I didn’t like that behavior given the lengths I’ve gone to support her in this time. I was met with a curt “whatever.” I said she was being extremely rude and she said that I didn’t know how she was feeling and so my remarks were “unwelcome”.
I think she genuinely believes she’s entitled to treat others horribly right now because she’s in pain. I’m not expecting her to be perfect bc I know the person that she is, and I know that grief fucks people up.
However, my mom has used me and my sister as an emotional punching bag for years and truly I don’t feel like giving her a pass because her mother died. I was not given the same grace to be vicious when I lost a parent. Not that I would’ve been, but still. I had to be composed for her. I genuinely feel for the pain she is in. She is now a widow and an orphan. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I do know it’s terrible to be treated like hired help, to have my feelings constantly pissed on and dismissed, and having to compartmentalize my grief because she simply does not acknowledge it. She gets to grieve and everyone else has to make life work for her while she falls apart.
I’m over this behavior. But she doesn’t have anyone else to turn to. I do not want to cut contact (I genuinely worry about her mental health and will to love) but I’m never truly heard when I voice my frustrations. Behavior never changes. I can’t do this forever. What do I do? How do I get relief?

My mom (60) lost her mother, my grandma just a couple weeks ago. I (26F) housesat and dog sat for her while she was out of the country taking care of funeral arrangements.
I flew halfway across the country and requested two weeks of remote work to help her. I’ve tended to her house, her 4 pets, booked her overnight lodging for her return trip and booked her a lyft back home from the airport. I held her and we cried together when we got the news. I made sure she ate and went to bed and slept beside her the night before she left. I’ve asked her how she is doing.
I should also mention that two years ago my dad (56) passed away unexpectedly. It was devastating for all of us. She has a loooong history of making her emotional state everyone else’s problem and responsibility, and punishing those around her if she is not appeased to her liking. She expects her loved ones to emotionally regulate for her. Losing my dad was an extreme exercise in this. She was sobbing inconsolably everyday, and my sister and I, who ALSO lost someone we fiercely loved, were forced to set aside our own processing and grief to comfort her and to bring her back to reality. At a point, my sister seriously wondered if she was suicidal. She constantly mentioned not wanting to be “here” anymore. She also became very hostile, critical, and demanding of me and my sister and other folks who were trying to help. She’s decided to pick up this pattern again.
I empathize with her grief. I am also grieving. But she acts like her pain is the only pain that matters, in grief and in general. And I’ve dealt with this behavior for years and it drives me insane. She desperately needs therapy but does not believe in it and criticized me for going for a time after my dad passed away.
She accosted me on the phone this morning for what was simply a genuine miscommunication and hung up on me. I tried having a levelheaded conversation about the misunderstanding and she hung up on me again. I thought about letting it slide but her shitty behavior towards family has gone unchecked for a long time and I’m not a child anymore so I feel more empowered to call her out now. I told her i didn’t appreciate how she spoke to me on the phone and that I didn’t like that behavior given the lengths I’ve gone to support her in this time. I was met with a curt “whatever.” I said she was being extremely rude and she said that I didn’t know how she was feeling and so my remarks were “unwelcome”.
I think she genuinely believes she’s entitled to treat others horribly right now because she’s in pain. I’m not expecting her to be perfect bc I know the person that she is, and I know that grief fucks people up.
However, my mom has used me and my sister as an emotional punching bag for years and truly I don’t feel like giving her a pass because her mother died. I was not given the same grace to be vicious when I lost a parent. Not that I would’ve been, but still. I had to be composed for her. I genuinely feel for the pain she is in. She is now a widow and an orphan. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I do know it’s terrible to be treated like hired help, to have my feelings constantly pissed on and dismissed, and having to compartmentalize my grief because she simply does not acknowledge it. She gets to grieve and everyone else has to make life work for her while she falls apart.
I’m over this behavior. But she doesn’t have anyone else to turn to. I do not want to cut contact (I genuinely worry about her mental health and will to love) but I’m never truly heard when I voice my frustrations. Behavior never changes. I can’t do this forever. What do I do? How do I get relief?

to start, my parents have extreme double standards when it comes to my brother (23M) and i (20F).
my brother does nothing but sit around and play video games all day, he's been out of school for the past five years since he graduated. he works part time at starbucks and has an alcoholism problem, and up until recently was addicted to smoking weed. he also suffers from ADHD (which im not sure if this is an escape goat or legitimate) so he takes Adderall too. he's always been aggressive and an a hole frankly. he's always threatening to kill himself to my mother to scare her into letting him do certain things like go out with his friends.
the first thing that lead me to change my view of my parents was that my brother totaled his car while speeding on the highway in the rain. i drive an unreliable car that needs to be fixed every three months and i drive 1.5 hours away for school. they use the insurance money to buy him a new BMW....when my brother sits around in town. i have never crashed my car and my parents were supposed to get me a car for my 18th birthday, which they didn't. i am in dire need of a new car and they know this. however they ended up giving their ungrateful POS son a new car. i cant make this up. this really hurt me and put things into perspective. literally this past week i broke down on the highway and had to call a tow truck on the way to school.
most recently, a huge fight at our house broke out last week. my dad told my brother he needed to wash the brand new car he got him. my brother responded that it has been raining the past few days so why would he wash it? (it wasnt even raining). and my dad told him why is he driving a car if he can't wash it. my brother proceeded to call my dad a "f*ggot" and my dad took his car away. my brother comes inside in a fit of rage and is slamming and throwing things around. my brother is telling me he's going to kill my dad. we should kill him etc. i go outside to see what is going on. and my dad and i can hear my brother throwing things around inside. we later find out that he punched a hole in my parent's bedroom door and threw a floor fan across their bedroom, breaking it. my dad comes inside and my mom comes home from work during this time because i called her and told her what was going on. they're all yelling at each other in the hallway and my brother punches a hole in the wall in our hallway right next to my mother so naturally i freak out. he then goes in my room and starts throwing things in my room. i cussed at my brother because he deserved it. i recorded the whole thing and recorded the death threats my brother was making, saying things like "this is why people kill their parents". YEA I KNOW......i dont know how he is still living here.
the next morning i hear my brother and my mom talking and my brother is going on about how i dont know shit and how im a f-ing b*tch. this is important for later.
the day after that my mom is allowing my brother to bring his girlfriend over (there is literal holes in the wall) and she ASKS ME to clean the bathroom for his girlfriend to come over when he just called me all those names to her the day earlier. he also used a mirror from his bedroom to hang over the hole he punched in the wall so his girlfriend wouldnt see it, they've only been togehter like four months or so. anyway i told my mom i heard him say those things and it wasnt fair to me to have me clean up for him after everything that has happened. today she went into our bathroom and saw that it wasnt clean, she wakes me up, brings me into the bathroom and gets in my face about it. she tells me next time i dont do what she asks that my boyfriend (who ive been with for 2.5 years) will not be able to come over for two weeks. then, my dad comes into my room and tells me that because of my attitude (WHAT) that i have to chip in for my car services after it breaking down on the highway....i just got wrongfully terminated and im currently looking for a new job, which they know about.
i cant make this stuff up....i went to my moms cousins funeral yesterday and i was her moral support and held her while she cried. i didnt know the lady, but i went for my mother. my mom would never have asked my brother to come because she knows he wouldnt want to and would give her a hard time about asking. im hurt and i'm so underappreciated here. since im gaslit so often, i would just like other people's opinion on this situation and i can provide more details if needed. thank you.

does anyone know of a way to download an ibisworld report for free? even old ones? I’m looking for this one in particular - https://www.ibisworld.com/united-states/market-research-reports/funeral-homes-industry/

TLDR: I can't stop dreaming about my two past loves and it's leaving me emotionally exhausted.
As the title says. I need to know if this is normal!
I'm 33(F). I've had a whole bunch of relationships, some serious, some not, some flings, some long-term... then your standard one-night stands, dates and crushes sprinkled in for good measure, plus some periods of singledom (some short, some long). Girls, boys, men, women, drag queens, trans people, non-binary people... I've experienced it all.
I've been married, divorced, and engaged several times... I've said "I love you" to about 7 or 8 people (and I did love them, but not as deeply) but I've only really experienced TRUE love twice (Grace and Adam, per below). The kind of love where you feel like you've found the piece of yourself that was missing, the kind where you feel like everything makes sense now, and everything will be okay now, and you're home at last.
The first love was a girl we will call Grace. Grace and I were together for about 2 years at the end of high school (ages 16-18). We started off as best friends who were super close, and then it developed into something more. When it ended I didn't know what to do with myself. I had truly thought I would be with her forever. It fucked me up big time.
I went through a string of relationships and hookups and eventually got married in my early 20s to a guy I loved a lot but who it didn't hurt my soul to leave. After him I was with a man we will call Adam. Adam and I had an absolutely MENTAL relationship (as in, we were always doing crazy things), very volatile, extreme in every way you can imagine. Every day was a rollercoaster and I loved Adam so hard I could hardly breathe when he wasn't around. I still feel that way about him. We broke up about 4 years ago.
Both Adam and Grace were the ones to end it, not me. I felt I never fully understood their reasons for doing it. I am still in contact with a lot of my other exes, but Grace and Adam have gone no-contact.
The emotional numbness I had to cultivate in order to survive my breakup with Adam has stayed with me to this day. I used to be the kind of person who would tear up at an emotional advert, let alone something like a pet or relative dying - I would throw myself on the floor and have huge whole-body cries when something like that happened. Crying was always cathartic for me. Now, I can't cry at all. Devastating things have happened since I lost Adam and it's like I don't even feel them. I got so used to numbing myself up that I can't turn it off now.
Since then I've had a child with a guy I was like "meh" about, and I'm no longer with. I've been single since I became a mother and, honestly, I don't think I will ever be in a relationship again. I won't go looking for it, I don't want it to happen, I will actively avoid it.
Ever since Grace and I broke up, I've had dreams about her approximately 2-3 times a week. That's just an average. They were more infrequent to begin with, but the more time that has passed, the more frequent they've become. Even when I was with Adam I had those dreams. Sometimes the dreams are purely sexual, but more often they are just normal dreams that she features in. Like, I'll be going on an adventure and she will be there. Most of the time, it's not even romantic, she's just there as a friend. But sometimes it's intensely romantic and I wake up feeling sad and empty.
And, you guessed it, since breaking up with Adam I have dreams about him, too. Not as often as Grace, but often enough to bother me. Maybe once a week.
Every time I wake up from one of those dreams, I've an overwhelming urge to contact them and tell them all about it. Or even just how much I miss them. Sometimes I even imagine that they dreamed the same dream, that I met them in "dreamland". I miss them so much when I have those dreams, but I almost never think about them in the daytime.
Since I can't tell Adam and Grace, I'm telling you guys. These dreams are breaking my heart. Sometimes I dread them, sometimes I look forward to them. But they leave me absolutely emotionally drained. I wake up feeling like I've just been beaten up during a funeral and had all my savings taken. As in - I feel kicked when I'm down, I feel absolutely at rock bottom. Lonely, grieving, empty. I start the day with no emotional reserves at all. Like, I'm emotionally done before I've even started.
Do any of you guys dream like this? I just want to know if I'm crazy or if this is just a part of life.

The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:

1. We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
2. We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
3. We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.

We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs.
Valzubiriagenda NFTs
NFTs only came about a few years ago. But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez, and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs.
Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them.
Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.

I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years.

BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books.
I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche.
Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited).
PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time. The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters, which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later?
No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies.
What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect," was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda." I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on.
Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical. Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers," which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014" and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett, about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett, about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda (co-authored by artist Silverio Perez, a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs.
Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be.
The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum.
Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art.
We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices. We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you.
Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors.
When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation.
Negative: When trouble comes, they cascade to even more.
Positive: When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.

JOIN THIS GROUP

If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.
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Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist

Spoilers, ep4. Thoughts about using Severance to escape grief, etc.
June meets Mark, and says "Do you ever think that maybe the best way to deal with a fucked-up situation in your life isn't to just shut your brain off half the time?" In an earlier episode, Mark's sister says something similar, about how being numb to his loss for part of the day isn't the same thing as healing.
These have gotten me thinking. That logic--the idea that you can escape your pain, at least part of the time, by Severing--is completely wrong. Regardless of whether or not it would help, the logic doesn't even work.
You're taking eight to ten hours out of your day during which you won't have to think about it, be aware of it, deal with the grief, whatever it is. But just as much as an innie gets in the elevator to leave and steps out of the elevator right back down there as if no time has passed, it's the same for the outie. Mark could never get eight hours of relief from his grief, he just gets eight hours less in his 24h day. He goes home from work grieving, drinks himself to sleep grieving, wakes up grieving, goes to work grieving, enters the elevator, exits the elevator, goes home grieving... He doesn't get any break from his grief at all, his life just goes past faster. For every 24h of "real-world" time for everyone else, he only lives 16h. But all those 16h, he's aware of his loss.
They don't get to shut their brains off half the time (or even a third). They're unaware of the lost time, so all of their experience, their entire life, is within their pain.
(Side note: Also in this ep, I just noticed that the reading in the program for the funeral service begins, "God be in my head". Interesting.)