u/ImpossibleDig8440

​

I never thought I would post something this personal publicly, but I think I have reached a point where I genuinely need advice.

I’m not posting this for sympathy, attention, or people feeling sorry for me. I just honestly don’t know what to do anymore.

Lately, my health has been getting really bad, and in the last few weeks things got even worse.

I constantly have really bad headaches. Recently, I started getting nosebleeds with those headaches. In the last 2 weeks, I’ve passed out unconscious 3 times at work.

Sometimes I randomly freeze. Sometimes my mind just goes blank for a few seconds. I trip while walking like someone who is drunk or high even though I’m completely normal. Sleeping has become a nightmare too — insomnia, sleep paralysis, and barely getting proper sleep.

To be honest, I’m not scared of death itself.

But there are 3 things constantly running in my mind:

1. How will I stand in front of God?

2. What will happen to the promises I made to people who trusted me?

3. What will happen to my parents if something happens to me?

To explain why I’m feeling like this, I need to give some background.

Around 6–7 years ago, I started a group that helps people dealing with things like sextortion, cyberbullying, blackmail, harassment, and online exploitation.

The reason I started all this was because years ago I witnessed something that completely changed me. A young girl lost her life because of cyberbullying. I still remember that incident, and it stayed in my mind for years. That moment changed the way I looked at the internet and the damage people can do to someone behind a screen.

That’s what pushed me toward cybersecurity and eventually building a group with people from different backgrounds — digital forensics, law, investigations.

Our goal was simple: help people who had nobody else.

And we never charged money.

Not once.

A lot of people told me to charge for my work, but I could never bring myself to do it.

My thinking was always simple:

If a criminal says to a victim, “Pay me money or I’ll destroy your life,” and then I say to that same victim, “Pay me money so I can save your life,” then what really makes me different from that criminal?

So I funded everything myself.

Every campaign.

Every case.

Every expense.

Everything came out of my own pocket.

No donations. No outside support. Nothing.

But life happened.

Most of the people in the group eventually had to leave. I don’t blame them. Everyone has responsibilities, jobs, families, and their own struggles.

But I stayed.

And slowly, I ended up carrying almost everything on my own.

At the same time, things at home got harder.

Both of my parents are dealing with serious health issues. My mom has gone through major complications and needs constant care. My dad also has health problems.

My brother sacrificed a lot for them, and I did too.

I left opportunities, lost financial stability, and after trying to rebuild things through business, I lost almost everything.

So now I’m trying to start over again.

Right now, this is my routine:

I work a full-time job, 8 hours a day, 6 days a week.

Add travel time, getting ready, and everything else, and work alone takes around 10–11 hours of my day.

Then after coming home, I spend another 5–6 hours daily helping people through my group — collecting evidence, dealing with cases, talking to lawyers, filing complaints, arranging meetings, spreading awareness, and trying to help people who genuinely have nowhere else to go.

Most people around me think I’m distant, selfish, or don’t care because I barely give anyone time.

The truth is, nobody even knows this side of my life.

And honestly…

I’m exhausted.

Mentally exhausted.

Physically exhausted.

Emotionally exhausted.

To keep up with everything, I became heavily dependent on coffee and cigarettes just to stay focused and awake.

And before anyone says it — yes, I know this lifestyle is destroying me.

I know sleeping 4–5 hours, smoking too much, drinking too much coffee, and sitting in front of a screen for 17 hours a day isn’t normal.

I know this could be the reason my health is crashing.

But this is where I feel stuck.

If I stop, what happens to the people who trusted me?

How do I tell someone who has nobody that I’m too tired to help?

How do I walk away from promises I made?

But at the same time, I honestly feel like my body is starting to give up on me.

And that scares me.

Because sometimes it feels like one day I’ll just collapse and that will be it.

People say “take a break,” but real life doesn’t stop.

Parents don’t stop needing care.

Bills don’t stop.

Responsibilities don’t stop.

People asking for help don’t stop.

So I’m genuinely asking for advice.

If you were in my position, what would you do?

How do you know when to keep fighting and when your body is telling you to stop?

And if stopping doesn’t even feel like an option… then what do you do?

Please be respectful.

I’m already fighting battles that most people around me don’t even know exist.

I want to ask a genuine question, and I hope people read this with an open mind before reacting.

Why is it so difficult to openly talk about men’s struggles, rights, or the ways men can also be treated unfairly in society?

Before anyone misunderstands me, this is not a “men vs women” post. I am not here to say men suffer more than women or women suffer more than men. Pain is not a competition. I’m simply asking why conversations around men’s experiences are often ignored, dismissed, or treated like they don’t matter.

This question comes from my own personal experiences — experiences that many men quietly go through but rarely talk about.

Let me start with something simple that happened today.

I was standing in line at Western Union. There were separate queues — one for elderly people, some for women, and one for younger men. The men’s line was extremely long. Many of us were standing outside in the afternoon heat for nearly an hour, while other queues were moving differently.

After around 55 minutes, I finally reached the counter. At that moment, the employee helping the women stepped away briefly and asked them to wait.

What happened next genuinely frustrated me.

A woman stepped out of her queue, moved ahead of me, and told me to wait so the women could go first. Then others followed. When I politely questioned it, I was told, “Women should go first.”

I asked myself a simple question: why?

Why is patience automatically expected from men? Why is speaking up sometimes treated as disrespectful?

The situation escalated to the point where security was called because some women felt uncomfortable with men standing nearby — even though we were simply waiting in line.

I moved on, but the whole thing stayed in my mind.

How many men quietly experience moments where they feel dismissed, unheard, or expected to tolerate unfair treatment simply because they are men?

Now let me talk about something more personal.

A few years ago, I had a stable career abroad, financial security, and a comfortable life. But life changed.

My parents became seriously ill. My brother sacrificed his successful career to care for them, and I returned home to support financially and emotionally. I invested everything I had into a business, hoping to create stability for my family, but unfortunately, I lost everything.

Still, I don’t regret standing beside my parents.

Today, I’m rebuilding my life through work.

But work also taught me something uncomfortable that people rarely discuss:

What happens when a man experiences harassment or unwanted attention?

I had a manager who repeatedly crossed personal boundaries. Standing too close, touching me in ways that made me uncomfortable, forcing personal interactions, insisting on lunches, and ignoring personal space despite clear discomfort from my side.

I tried speaking about it casually with coworkers.

The response?

“You’re lucky.”

“If I had that chance, I’d never say no.”

“You’re stupid for refusing.”

That response bothered me deeply.

Why is a man’s discomfort turned into a joke?

Why do people assume men should automatically welcome attention, even when it crosses boundaries?

I’m a man, yes — but I still have values, personal limits, and the right to say no.

Wanting to save intimacy for marriage does not make someone weak. Feeling uncomfortable does not make someone weak.

And before anyone says, “Just leave the job,” life is not always that simple.

I’m rebuilding financially after major losses. My family depends on me. Responsibilities don’t always give us the luxury to walk away.

Then something happened that really stayed with me.

During a company trip, things crossed a line in a way that made me deeply uncomfortable. I made it clear that I was not interested and kept my boundaries.

Soon after returning, a major career opportunity came — an international client wanted me to lead an important project.

But somehow, I never got that opportunity.

Maybe coincidence.

Maybe not.

But I can’t ignore how it felt: as if saying “no” came with consequences.

And that left me asking difficult questions.

If a woman says no, society rightfully supports her right to boundaries.

But if a man says no and speaks up, why are his feelings dismissed, laughed at, or treated as unimportant?

Again, I am not attacking women. Women face real struggles, and those struggles deserve attention and respect.

I am simply asking:

Can men also be allowed to speak?

Can men talk about emotional pain, unfair treatment, harassment, loneliness, pressure, and trauma without being mocked or told to “man up”?

Can we care about everyone’s struggles instead of turning pain into a competition?

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe I’m not.

But this question has been on my mind for a long time.

I want to ask a genuine question, and I hope people read this with an open mind before reacting.

Why is it so difficult to openly talk about men’s struggles, rights, or the ways men can also be treated unfairly in society?

Before anyone misunderstands me, this is not a “men vs women” post. I am not here to say men suffer more than women or women suffer more than men. Pain is not a competition. I’m simply asking why conversations around men’s experiences are often ignored, dismissed, or treated like they don’t matter.

This question comes from my own personal experiences — experiences that many men quietly go through but rarely talk about.

Let me start with something simple that happened today.

I was standing in line at Western Union. There were separate queues — one for elderly people, some for women, and one for younger men. The men’s line was extremely long. Many of us were standing outside in the afternoon heat for nearly an hour, while other queues were moving differently.

After around 55 minutes, I finally reached the counter. At that moment, the employee helping the women stepped away briefly and asked them to wait.

What happened next genuinely frustrated me.

A woman stepped out of her queue, moved ahead of me, and told me to wait so the women could go first. Then others followed. When I politely questioned it, I was told, “Women should go first.”

I asked myself a simple question: why?

Why is patience automatically expected from men? Why is speaking up sometimes treated as disrespectful?

The situation escalated to the point where security was called because some women felt uncomfortable with men standing nearby — even though we were simply waiting in line.

I moved on, but the whole thing stayed in my mind.

How many men quietly experience moments where they feel dismissed, unheard, or expected to tolerate unfair treatment simply because they are men?

Now let me talk about something more personal.

A few years ago, I had a stable career abroad, financial security, and a comfortable life. But life changed.

My parents became seriously ill. My brother sacrificed his successful career to care for them, and I returned home to support financially and emotionally. I invested everything I had into a business, hoping to create stability for my family, but unfortunately, I lost everything.

Still, I don’t regret standing beside my parents.

Today, I’m rebuilding my life through work.

But work also taught me something uncomfortable that people rarely discuss:

What happens when a man experiences harassment or unwanted attention?

I had a manager who repeatedly crossed personal boundaries. Standing too close, touching me in ways that made me uncomfortable, forcing personal interactions, insisting on lunches, and ignoring personal space despite clear discomfort from my side.

I tried speaking about it casually with coworkers.

The response?

“You’re lucky.”

“If I had that chance, I’d never say no.”

“You’re stupid for refusing.”

That response bothered me deeply.

Why is a man’s discomfort turned into a joke?

Why do people assume men should automatically welcome attention, even when it crosses boundaries?

I’m a man, yes — but I still have values, personal limits, and the right to say no.

Wanting to save intimacy for marriage does not make someone weak. Feeling uncomfortable does not make someone weak.

And before anyone says, “Just leave the job,” life is not always that simple.

I’m rebuilding financially after major losses. My family depends on me. Responsibilities don’t always give us the luxury to walk away.

Then something happened that really stayed with me.

During a company trip, things crossed a line in a way that made me deeply uncomfortable. I made it clear that I was not interested and kept my boundaries.

Soon after returning, a major career opportunity came — an international client wanted me to lead an important project.

But somehow, I never got that opportunity.

Maybe coincidence.

Maybe not.

But I can’t ignore how it felt: as if saying “no” came with consequences.

And that left me asking difficult questions.

If a woman says no, society rightfully supports her right to boundaries.

But if a man says no and speaks up, why are his feelings dismissed, laughed at, or treated as unimportant?

Again, I am not attacking women. Women face real struggles, and those struggles deserve attention and respect.

I am simply asking:

Can men also be allowed to speak?

Can men talk about emotional pain, unfair treatment, harassment, loneliness, pressure, and trauma without being mocked or told to “man up”?

Can we care about everyone’s struggles instead of turning pain into a competition?

Maybe I’m wrong.

Maybe I’m not.

But this question has been on my mind for a long time.

So i am planning to buy ebike a lot of options in market i need you guys to share your opinion, the purpose of this ebike is just to do short haul like going market for quick grocery run buying daily essentials as well you can say short haul but if need can be used for medium haul around 50 to 60km max. Budget for this i have around 1.5 lac pkr. Currently i am thinking to buy evee mito + anyone wants to suggest something. Any pros and cons.