u/SadAnt9358

Im sure this has been asked at some point, but what is everyone’s early experience with levothyroxine? If bad, did it ever resolve with time?

I am on week 3 of 75mcg, and I cannot help but notice how completely exhausted I have become since the start of it. I thought my fatigue was bad before, but now keeping my eyes open is hard work, and sleeping in until noon+ midday naps are nonnegotiable. My body aches have also increased, and just feeling really foggy.

Because this medication isn’t really known to have adverse side effects unless improperly dosed, i wonder if this is even related to the medication or if my thyroid is just rapidly getting worse, and my medication has yet to catch up with it. My TSH labs went from 7.50 to 8.53 in just six weeks and I am not sure if this is meaningful info, but I do know that hormone fluctuations in themselves can be a trigger until they are more stable in time. Im just 27 and pretty new to big hormone changes, so I’d like to gather your thoughts on this.

What was your experience, did it resolve, was it similar to any other hormone fluctuations you have been through if you have, do you know much more info about the side effects of this hormone aside from improper dosage?

Edit for missing info:

I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s
Anti-T Peroxidase = 402
Anti-thyroglobin = 330
T3 and reverse T3 were never tested
T4 was still within normal range but on the low end of that range
I started on 75mcg and I don’t feel any of the ways people have described being on too high of a dose

I am so curious if anyone else has ever experienced this In Mall World.

Last night’s mall world experience was like no other….because I was an employee there.
The thing I realized about “employee mall world” is that it is bright, alive, and there are people everywhere, all of which are also employees somewhere in mall world. There was not one visitor at this time, so i assumed this was some sort of “after hours” there.

My job there was to be the visionary of the village, which is outside the borders of the map I’ve previously unlocked as a visitor. There was a little village of houses, idk if it was employee housing or if it housed visitors, but my task was to envision something and tell the builders what to build. Including and “tricks” the buildings might play on someone.

The whole time I had imposter syndrome, like I definitely was not supposed to be there but no one else questioned it. For some reason I was also familiar with a lot of the employees and their roles.

There was at one point I took a break from my job and I was together with the staff of a store there (grocery/ superstore). We were in their break room when I actually REALIZED that I was in Mall World. That is when I started asking my fellow employees a question I have been asking people in waking life: “Have you ever been to the MILK store on the North end of the mall?”

And I think that blew my cover…. They started looking at me strange and then I woke up…

This experience blew my mind for many reasons.
1.) I realized it was a construction. The eerie vibes, the never ending maze feeling, all of it was selected by someone who has a role like I did. There was a whole staff community making Mall World possible.
2.) “employee mall world” was relatively normal
3.) Mall World is bigger than I ever knew
4.) I became lucid for the first time (in any dream)

By Markee Reimers

The boy was abused
then grew into a man
who swore that violence
would never come from his hands.

So he learned to avoid it—
the conflict, the confrontations—
found places to disappear,
mistook distance for prevention.

But he never learned
how to hold his anger,
only how to hide it,
and board it up like danger.

The boy was abused
then grew into a man
who taught the same lessons
without using hands.

Avoid. Retreat. Escape the gap.
Never face the thing
that makes you snap.

The boy who was abused
grew into a man,
had a son of his own
and followed that plan.

But his son had no model
to face his own rage,
no words for the fire
that was melting its cage.

So he found a hammer
and broke what he could,
left his father’s property
worse than he should.

The father couldn’t help
but come out of his prison,
and it was not to care,
and it was not to listen.

The father grabbed the hammer
in a fit of rage.
Fate engaged—
the moment was as sharp as a blade.

The boy who was abused
grew into a man
who realized his plan
was all a sham,
standing in his son’s face,
screaming with spit,
a hammer clenched tight,
ready to hit.

But the man stopped short,
remembered the whacks,
the sound, the fear,
the way his voice cracks.

He lowered the weapon
to his son’s cries and pleas,
left no marks with his hands,
but the lessons don’t cease.

Three generations,
one lesson retold:
run from the anger
before it takes hold.

Some threw it like weapons,
some buried it deep,
but none of them stayed
with the part that would speak.

And it still waited there,
passed down, unspoken,
changed only in shape—
but never truly broken.

It never asked for weapons,
or distance, or shame,
only to be held long enough
to learn its name.

———

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uviMz1vr3t

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/LUrJGf25p1

By Markee Reimers

Did you pay attention in Sunday school,

or were you just there so your family looked good in the pews?

Gold-star faith, handshake salvation,
attendance counted louder than your own transformation.

Commandment number three — don’t take the Name in vain,
but you trimmed it down to syllables, stripped out the weight.
You policed the language that you found obscene,
while bowing to calves cast in polished greed.

Funny how vain became curse words and tone,
not using God’s name to prop up a throne.
Not stamping Him on borders, bombs, and bills,
not blessing your comfort while denying His will.

Israel danced while the mountain still smoked,
Moses breaking tablets, fury provoked.
You read that story like it was ancient sin,
but keep melting your earrings to fund it again.

You say “Lord, Lord” with immaculate breath,
but dodge the parts where obedience costs death.
You love the cross as a necklace or brand,
not the nails, not the blood, not the weight in the hands.

You praise Paul — beaten, chained, and accused,
Peter called mad, imprisoned, refused.
Yet you panic when faith asks you to risk your seat,
your status, your silence, your social peace.

David didn’t just pray Goliath away,
he ran toward the giant, stone already raised.
Faith wasn’t comfort, it wasn’t polite,
it was action wrapped tightly around what was right.

Forty days starving, desert and dust,
no crowds, no shelter, just hunger and trust.
Jesus didn’t soften the edge of the call;
He said, “Lose your life, or lose it all.”

You honor the tables He flipped in the text,
but scold anyone now who disrupts your sense of “respect.”
Call Him meek, call Him mild,
ignore that He braided a whip for defiled aisles.

You say it’s in God’s hands and retreat from the fire,
forgetting He moves through the ones He inspires.
Faith without works doesn’t age like wine;
James said it first — I’m just drawing the line.

The prophets weren’t gentle, they weren’t unclear,
they screamed at kings with their lives on spears.

Judgment didn’t fall because God lost control;
it fell when His people stopped playing their role.

So don’t tell me Scripture evolved with the times,
or softened its spine to protect your design.
The Book keeps asking the same hard things:
love the least, protect the weak, speak the truth — let justice sting.

If your faith feels safe, approved, and clean,
you’re definitely serving something, but it is not the Nazarene.

Sunday school didn’t teach us a God you could control,
gold stars for belief!!! but at no cost to your soul.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9sAIrrXOeb

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/x5HWLEvSPk