u/Pizza-Kurwa

Many people decide to have children without truly reflecting on how difficult and complex the process is.

It's common for them to act similarly to when they adopt a puppy: they're enthusiastic at first, but when the novelty wears off or complications arise, many parents become emotionally detached. Yes, the child is fed, housed, and clothed but there is more to raising a human than just that. And, unlike a pet, a child cannot be rehomed because a parent decides they're unfit. Many children are being raised by screens as a result.

My heart hurts for these people, but especially the children.

I think having to provide childcare over an extended period of time should be more common. For instance, what if teenagers were required to volunteer at an elementary school or daycare for a period of time? What if we asked them to imagine living that reality long-term rather than just experiencing it as a temporary volunteer project? It would be a tangible experience to reflect on.

I know I felt so much relief when I'd go home after a babysitting gig, or how glad I was when my younger siblings could finally do more for themselves. Those feelings have never been forgotten, I know I don't have it in me to be a parent.

It was my birthday, and he'd just taken me to the restaurant I'd been obsessing over for months. I was full, happy, and ready to call it a lovely night when he announced that a surprise was coming. He said I'd never guess what it was.

We pull into the parking lot of one of my favorite bars. We don't go in. Instead, he tells me we have to wait for the others. Others? I'm confused. Then people start appearing - friends, coworkers, even family. At that point, my brain flips into full siren mode: Is he going to propose? Why else would he gather everyone on my birthday like this?

And the shock hits even harder because this is a man who has repeatedly said he never wanted to get married.

He finally says, “It's time.” He tells me to close my eyes. My heart is pounding, my stomach is full of butterflies, and I'm thinking, Oh god. This is it. I'm about to get engaged in a parking lot.

I open my eyes.

He's holding…a piñata.

A literal, brightly colored, party‑store piñata.

We take turns whacking it with a stick. I'm half-laughing, half-wondering if maybe he hid a ring inside as some kind of chaotic, whimsical reveal.

Nope. Just candy. It really was just a piñata.

We finally go inside, and it turns out it's karaoke night. I drink as much as I can and pick angry girl anthems like You Oughta Know because I'm unsure of how to process what just happened.

After my family heads home, one of his friends suggests we go to the strip club across the street. I shrug. Apparently, that counts as consent. The strip club is also doing karaoke, except here you sing onstage while dancers do acrobatics around you. I pick another angry girl song, Rebel Girl, and tell the KJ it's my birthday and I'm excited to sing.

But my turn never comes.

I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

I’m sitting there in the strip club, mascara smudged, crying into a cocktail that tastes like melted ice and regret. The dancers keep doing their routines like nothing is wrong - because nothing is wrong for them. For me, though, the whole night has cracked open. All the adrenaline, all the confusion, all the hope I didn’t want to admit I had… it all hits at once.

He finally notices I’m crying. Or maybe he notices that I’ve gone quiet. He slides into the seat next to me and asks what’s wrong.

And I don’t even know where to start. Do I tell him that I thought he was proposing? That I thought the piñata was a metaphor? That I thought the karaoke was a distraction before some big reveal? That I thought the strip club was maybe a weird bachelor‑party‑adjacent celebration?

Instead, I say something small. Something safe. Something like, “I just…thought tonight was going to be different.”

He looks confused. Not guilty. Not apologetic. Just confused. He thought he planned a fun, chaotic birthday adventure and can’t understand why I’m unraveling in the middle of it.

He says, “But you love karaoke.”

And that’s when I realize he has absolutely no idea what emotional whiplash feels like. He has no idea what it meant to see my family show up. He has no idea what it meant when he told me to close my eyes. He has no idea that the piñata felt like a punchline to a joke I didn’t know we were telling.

He has no idea that I wanted - even for a second - a future he said he didn’t want.

I wipe my face, stand up, and tell him I need air. I need silence. I need to not be in a room where people are singing while spinning upside down on poles.

I walk out into the night, the neon lights buzzing behind me, the cold air hitting my face like a reset button. My phone buzzes. Birthday texts, missed calls, a “where’d you go?” text from him. But I ignore it all.

I sit on a bench outside of the club, feeling the weight of everything I wanted to say. It was that moment I realized I was a single woman. And had been for a while.

So many of us have found ourselves in uncomfortable, painful conversations with people we care about. Some of us have lost friendships we thought were solid. Some of us have started questioning who we can truly trust. It’s been disorienting, and for many people, deeply lonely. I include myself in this.

Although I’ve been building more Jewish and Jewish-affirming community, I still think about the people I've lost. I've been wondering whether anyone else is thinking about, or even seriously considering, trying to make amends with the people we've argued with or drifted away from. I’m absolutely NOT suggesting that we haven’t been hurt or wronged; I know I have. But in the midst of everything, we may have also hurt others or at least left them feeling hurt or misunderstood.

I’m sitting with this tension: Is it important to try to repair these relationships? Or is this one of those situations where the responsibility doesn’t fall on us, the rupture wasn’t ours to fix in the first place?

I feel genuinely ambivalent, which is why I’m asking. I’m curious how others are navigating this, and whether anyone feels pulled toward reconciliation, firmly away from it, or something in between.

Update: Thanks for everyone's thoughts, they are unanimous. None of us have anything to apologize for. The reason for my ambiguity is that I'm still grieving. I was hoping these people would come to me to try to repair, but I don’t see that happening. As a few of you said, it's okay to remember the good times in those past relationships, but the trash took itself out.

American here. I just got back from Quebec, I badly needed a break from my job in pediatrics. Had a lovely time visiting relatives. Three big observations from observing families in public:

1. I didn’t see many, if any, kids on iPads, phones, or other devices. Parents also weren't on their phones unless they were taking pictures. Families were actively engaged in looking at animals in exhibits, observing nature around them, or talking to each other while enjoying a meal.

2. My space was acknowledged and respected. Where I am, many parents take up a sidewalk with their strollers and don't attempt to share the sidewalk with fellow pedestrians. They also ignore or get irritated with other people when their child isn't paying attention and bumps into someone. It's as if everyone else should constantly move aside for them and their kid. But in Quebec, parents would say, "Excuse me/pardon" on behalf of their kid or pull them back and politely remind them to "Look out for other people/etre attentif aux autres".

3. Toddlers had totally age-appropriate meltdowns, but their parents didn't just let it go on for all to see and hear. They got on the little one's level and said sternly said something like "We're not screaming in the restaurant right now, we're using our indoor voices". Or they scooped their angry little one up and went to a different space.

Keep up the great work on teaching the tiny humans how to socialize instead of being entitled, oblivious, and glued to technology! Why can't American parents be more like you? What's wrong with us?!

You're amazing, don't stop being you!

Asking for a friend who is unexpectedly but happily moving onto greener pastures. 😅

After you've officially resigned, do you tell colleagues not to expect you back at work in two weeks?

This may be just a pipe dream, but what would it realistically take to live in Quebec City, Canada?

I've lived in the PNW for most of my life. Portland isn't doing it for me anymore. I'm mid-30s F, single, and have been a speech language pathologist in public schools for 10 years. I'm conversant in French and could work toward fluency. I could also shift jobs/careers, but I don't know what else I want to be when I grow up.

i have family nearby in Montreal and Vermont and went to school in western New York, so I've experienced much colder and snowier winters.

From my visits, Quebec City is very clean, seems much friendlier than Montreal, and appears easy to get around on bike when it's not winter. Like Portland, it's a smaller city but would have more going on than Burlington. Or is Vermont more realistic given my language abilities and US citizenship?

After 10 years in the schools, I'm switching settings! I'm super excited to be doing something different. I'll be working in pediatrics primarily with preschool and elementary aged kids.

I'm an overthinker, and I have a few questions:

1. When Deaf/Hoh cases came up in schools, I was often the go-to person because I have basic ASL skills and understand hearing aids. I plan to do some continuing ed with a focus on aural rehab. What else do I need to know as I start?

2. What do you wear in PP that's professional but comfortable? In my last job, I worked with mod-severe students with medical needs. I probably should've been wearing scrubs (lots of exposure to body fluids) and became accustomed to crappy jeans and T-shirts. I know I need to step it up.

Thanks!

I love building in this area in the Oxbow, the view of the beach is gorgeous! But I'm always not sure how to build my town. I know I love having my house on the cliffs overlooking the water.

What do y'all do? Build above the mine or on the beach itself? Something else?

I'm curious about this phenomenon a coffee lover who doesn't engage in this ritual.

Yes, I have a coffee every morning...but it's just black coffee made with a French press or Moka pot, and I add some milk. It's cheaper, still quicker than going through a drive-thru, and not loaded with extra calories.

Anyone have insight as to how this happened and why we continue to do it? I don't think caffeine addiction speaks to the whole story.

Looking for a willing partner for some verbal ping-pong. If the rally dies, no tears and no hard feelings, it just means the universe ruined our timing or our banter lacks chemistry.

Plan B: Let's bypass the small talk and just trade the most chaotic, unhinged, or embarrassing stories we have.

I have an in-person interview with a pediatric OP clinic soon, and it's been 90/32 degrees here! I will be engaging in an activity with a patient, so I'm thinking no skirt or dress.

But really, what would I wear that isn't "nice jeans" and a T- shirt? Maybe I'm overthinking but I think this job would be a good fit, I don't want to blow it!

I’m turning 36 soon, and it feels like I’m standing at a strange crossroads both professionally and personally. A lot of it is about how I relate to gender.

On paper, I’m single and never married, though I’ve been with a wonderful long‑term partner. We haven’t married yet because I’m pursuing student loan forgiveness, and combining incomes would make my monthly payments unmanageable. I don't even know if it's something we actually want or would benefit from, or if it's just the next "logical" step. I bring this up because I live in the US and you basically need to work for your health insurance, or get added to your spouse's insurance. This can impact job opportunities, like not applying for jobs that don't offer insurance but are awesome otherwise.

Also, the last couple years I've been dealing with endometriosis - irregular cycles, and extremely heavy periods. Ultimately, I chose to have a hysterectomy. It was the right decision for me: I was exhausted by the physical and emotional toll of my cycles, and I’ve never felt ready for motherhood - I don’t expect that to change. I have zero regrets.

What I do struggle with is how I’m perceived professionally. I work in pediatrics, and there seems to be an unspoken expectation that a “professional woman” in this field should look a certain way and ideally have children of her own. I shower, wear deodorant, brush my hair - but I’m not curling my hair at 6 a.m. or doing full makeup every day. Sometimes I feel like I’m not seen as “womanly” enough or “motherly” enough to fit the mold people expect in pediatric work.

That feeling has grown into some resentment, and it’s making me consider shifting from pediatrics to adult care. Luckily, that’s a viable option, but it’s intimidating. I’ve spent nearly a decade in pediatrics, and I worry that employers won’t take me seriously - that I’ll be seen as not feminine enough, not experienced enough, not the “perfect candidate” they want. Many places don’t offer grace or training anymore. Still, I’m going to try. Maybe I’ll be surprised.

I’m also realizing (maybe later than some) that the grass isn’t always greener careerwise. You have to navigate the politics of a workplace: show cooperation, read the room, and play along just enough to keep things moving. Every workplace has difficult people and frustrating dynamics. I’ve done a lot of job hopping and kept myself at arm’s length socially to avoid the worst of it, but I’m starting to see how that’s limited me too.

I’m mostly just rambling here. If anyone has constructive feedback or perspective, I’m open to it.

I've found myself back on the job hunt. I'm still technically employed... but after 10+ years in early intervention or schools, I'm burned out and trying to step away from a toxic work environment. My goal is not to return in the fall. I would love to do medical work.

The challenge is that almost everything in my area is either school-based or PRN, and neither option works for me. I'm single, so I need consistent pay and benefits. If I'm being honest, I've been holding onto the school setting for a decade because of the stability, not because it's the right fit. I don't hate or adore kids, they're just not where I feel most at ease. I'm much more comfortable and not putting on a mask with young adults and older clients. But those roles seem hard to find.

Does anyone have any advice beyond continuing to apply to every full-time outpatient position I can find?

I thought I was signing up for a simple foot procedure last year. Instead, I ended up with a post-surgical infection that nearly took my part of my foot and spiraled into sepsis. I recovered, and I still have my foot and all my toes, but one of my toenails doesn't appear to be growing back. What's left is a thick red scar that runs across my foot and one of my toes, close to where the nail should be.

Ever since sandal weather started, I've been hyper-aware of it. Rationally, I know people (except for some weirdos) aren't staring at my feet or cataloging my scars. I even treated myself to a pedicure to feel a little more confident. But when I look down, I focus on the scar and I'm reminded of everything that happened.

I know I could've lost more than just my toenail, but I miss both of my feet looking like mirror images of each other. I know that's dumb and hope I won't give a fuck eventually.

While my acquaintances are either shipping their firstborn off to college or timing contractions for their firstborn’s grand entrance, I’m doing neither. You and my uterus had other plans.

When I look back, I realized that I'd become sickly. For a while it seemed like one cold after another. Then, influenza knocked me out for nearly two weeks. When strep throat was going around, I caught that, too.

I was also a loyal birth control pill user for years - it was the only thing besides Accutane that kept my awful acne in check. So when my once-punctual periods started showing up late and paired with cramps so intense that I initially blamed food poisoning, I knew something was off.

And then it happened.

I was enjoying myself at a concert when that scene from The Shining suddenly appeared in my pants. You know the one. I made an awkward exit so I could go home, shower, and change. I’d never experienced anything like it. I debated going to the ER, but the bleeding stopped as mysteriously as it started.

From then on, I equipped myself with period panties and a pad thick enough to qualify as insulation. I kept a change of clothes and a super tampon with me at all times. Naturally, my period then decided to ghost me, just some light spotting here and there. When the Red Sea finally returned, I fortunately I was at home and already had a doctor's appointment on the books. My PCP ordered an ultrasound, and voilà: you, dear Fibroid, revealed yourself.

Your presence earned me a referral to an OBGYN who knows insurance companies and their little games. She told me I’d get two options: try out some medications to see if they help or evict you entirely by demolishing your home.

I chose demolition.

And surprise: you weren’t alone. My hysterectomy revealed several endometriosis lesions. These little fuckers are evasive; they aren't detected by ultrasounds, pap smears, or routine bloodwork. I’ve heard so many stories of people, like my mother, living with these lesions for years and years. Had you not been there, Fibroid, who knows how long I would’ve been stuck on that ride. Many people, like me, don’t have the pleasure of finding out until the surgeon opens them up. Luckily for me, I went from “huh, that’s weird” to the operating table in only 18 months.

As a result, I won’t be prepping for the stork or celebrating milestones with any offspring. And I’m not sad about it. I’m pain-free, no longer anxious about carrying backup clothes, and most importantly, I’m alive. This could’ve been something far more sinister.

So thank you, Fibroid. You were a menace, but ultimately, you improved my quality of life.

I've been exclusively school-based for 10 years and I'm ready for something different, the schools are rough where I am!bThere's a private practice near me that is hiring, it's almost too good to be true.

Several years ago, I tried to do some private practice as a summer gig. I felt like the practice pulled the wool over my eyes. For instance, they told me I’d have plenty of support learning their documentation system. Instead, after a single day of shadowing, I was on my own and treated like asking questions was burdensome. I quit after 4 days because I felt so unwelcomed. I don't want that to happen again.

Below are some details, are there any red flags or additional things I should ask about?

Responsibilities

• See pediatric patients and their families in person and virtually. Existing caseload of 23 children
• Provide listening, speech and language therapy using parent-coaching and direct treatment
• Produce evaluations of speech, language and auditory skills
• Complete for documentation, coding, and billing
• Assist in the maintenance of all clinic equipment, space, and supplies
• Provide referrals to appropriate health care and education specialists

Benefits

• License reimbursement
• Mileage reimbursement
• Loan forgiveness
• Continuing education credits
• Health insurance
• Paid time off
• Dental insurance
• Relocation assistance
• Paid holidays
• Flexible schedule

What are your thoughts?

For me, it's tank tops and cropped tops. Because I was told they're "immodest" and only for "teen girls who are promiscuous".

Now I'm pushing 40 and IDGAF.