u/SuspiciousAverage706

Feeling guilty for not handling a conversation with my parents well, but also feeling unheard
For context, I’ve been trying to improve my health for a while now. I have a condition that affects things like weight, energy, hormones, and appetite, so I’ve been putting a lot of effort into learning what works for me and trying to build healthier habits that I can actually sustain long term.
I regularly update my parents about what I’m doing; taking my medication, improving my sleep, being more active, changing my eating habits, etc.
Recently, my mom sent me a voice note encouraging me to follow the same approach she’s using because it’s working for her. The problem isn’t that she wants to help. The problem is that after years of explaining my situation and what I’m trying to do, it sometimes feels like none of it is really being heard.
Whenever I explain that what works for one person may not work for another, especially when health conditions are involved, the conversation often turns into me being told not to overcomplicate things or not to believe everything I read.
During a phone call this morning, she brought up a comment I’d made previously about progress not always being linear. I’ve explained what I meant several times before, but the topic keeps coming back up. Eventually, I got frustrated and lowered my phone volume while she was talking because I didn’t want the conversation to escalate or affect the rest of my day.
Unfortunately, she thought I was ignoring her. She called back several times, and later my dad called to tell me how disrespectful I had been.
What made the conversation difficult wasn’t just being told I was wrong. It was hearing things like:
“Do you think you know more than your mother?”
“Why do you get upset when people advise you about your weight?”
“After all the sacrifices your mother has made, this is how you treat her?”
I ended up apologizing to my mom later, but the whole situation has been bothering me.
I think what hurts is that I’ve spent years trying to balance improving my health without falling into unhealthy extremes, and sometimes it feels like the only thing people care about is the number on the scale.
There was a period earlier in my life when I was under a lot of pressure and wasn’t doing well physically or mentally. Looking back, I don’t want to return to that version of myself just to make other people happy with how I look.
The hardest part is that comments about sacrifices and expectations tend to trigger a lot of guilt in me. Instead of motivating me, they make me feel like I’m constantly failing the people who have invested so much in me.
Has anyone else dealt with parents who genuinely want the best for you, but whose way of expressing concern ends up making you feel more pressured than supported? How did you handle it?

I think I just had an epiphany about my relationship with food and I’m not sure what to make of it.

For context, I’m a 20-year-old woman with PCOS and I’ve always been plus-size. Growing up, I was bullied about my appearance. Looking back, it wasn’t always just about my weight — I was called ugly a lot too. I was also catcalled and harassed in public when I was younger, which is something I’ve never really told anyone.

As a teenager, I went to boarding school. Around that time, I was struggling with depression, anxiety, academic pressure, fear of failure, and a difficult friendship that took a huge emotional toll on me. Food at school wasn’t really to my taste, and my emotions have always had a strong influence on my appetite. When I’m stressed or depressed, my eating habits can change dramatically.

My self-esteem was heavily tied to performance. I felt pressure to get top grades, avoid mistakes, meet expectations, and lose weight. A lot of my sense of worth came from how well I was doing and whether I was disappointing people.

After high school, I took a gap year and moved back home. That’s when I gained a significant amount of weight. I started binge eating, especially sugary foods. I wasn’t necessarily eating huge meals, but the cravings felt uncontrollable. At the time, my parents believed I was gaining weight because I was overeating or eating the wrong foods, but I always felt like something else was going on. I was later diagnosed with PCOS, which explained some of the hormonal issues I was experiencing.

I’ve tried fasting and other unhealthy weight-loss methods in the past. More recently, I’ve been trying to focus on balanced meals, exercise, and managing my PCOS. Because of that, I genuinely thought I had moved past any unhealthy relationship with food.

But today something clicked.

I was discussing calorie deficits and realized that the idea of eating the amount of calories I would actually need to lose weight made me uncomfortable. My first reaction was that it was “too much.” A part of me still feels like minimum calorie threshold is more reasonable, even though logically I know that’s probably too low for someone my size.

Then I realized I still feel guilty after eating.

Not every single time, but often enough that I didn’t even notice it anymore because it felt normal.

Now I’m wondering whether I still have some of the underlying thought patterns associated with disordered eating, even though I don’t fit the stereotype people usually imagine. Because I’m plus-size, I never seriously considered that possibility.

I don’t know whether this points to an eating disorder, disordered eating, or just years of internalized beliefs about weight, food, and self-worth. I only know that realizing how uncomfortable I felt about eating an appropriate amount of food for weight loss was a huge wake-up call.

Has anyone else had a realization like this years later? Especially if you thought your relationship with food had improved?

I still don’t understand why one friendship affected me more than any relationship ever could

I still don’t understand why one friendship affected me more than any relationship ever could

I’m in my early 20s now, and there’s a friendship from high school that still confuses me years later.

For context, I’ve always been someone who pulls away when people get too close. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed throughout my life. I keep people at arm’s length, have very few close friends, and when someone starts getting emotionally attached too quickly, my instinct is usually to detach.

Which is why what happened with “Hannah” makes absolutely no sense to me.

We met at an all-girls boarding school when we were around 15-16 years old. We knew each other throughout our time there but we only became very close friends in our fourth year. We became close very quickly. Looking back, our friendship was intense from the beginning. We spent a lot of time together, talked constantly, and developed this weird push-and-pull dynamic that lasted for years.

The strange thing is that I can’t even explain what I felt for her.

I don’t think it was a normal friendship, but I also don’t know if it was a crush. I wasn’t sitting around imagining dating her or anything like that. What I remember most was how much emotional power she had over me.

If she was upset with me, my entire day was ruined.

If we weren’t talking, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

If she gave me attention, I felt amazing.

If she pulled away, I felt awful.

And yet at the same time, being close to her was exhausting.

The friendship had become too unhealthy but for some reason I didn’t want it to end. She also knew that it had become unhealthy but I really couldn’t tell what she thought in that moment; we would get jealous at being being too close with others, inability to communicate with each other properly and the anxious avoid at tendencies from both parties.

We had communication issues, misunderstandings, periods where we’d get really close and then suddenly become distant. There was always some kind of tension underneath everything.

At the time, I was also struggling with depression, anxiety, and a very unhealthy relationship with food, so I know that probably intensified my emotions. But even taking all of that into account, the way I felt about her still seems disproportionate.

What confuses me most is that she was the complete exception to my normal behavior.
You could write it like this:

What confuses me most is that she was the complete exception to my normal behavior.

I’ve always valued my independence and tend to keep a certain emotional distance from people. Forming deep attachments has never come naturally to me, and when someone starts getting emotionally close too quickly, my usual instinct is to pull away rather than lean in. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed throughout my life.

But with Hannah, the opposite happened. Instead of creating distance, I became deeply attached. I found myself thinking about her constantly and caring far more about her opinions, feelings, and our friendship than I normally would. Changes in our relationship affected me emotionally in a way I wasn’t used to, and even years later I still find myself reflecting on the friendship and trying to understand why it had such a lasting impact on me. That’s what makes it so confusing my feelings for her don’t fit the pattern I’ve seen in myself with almost anyone else.

Every other time someone has tried to get close to me, I’ve eventually withdrawn. Yet somehow she got past every defense I normally have.

Even now, years later, I still dream about her occasionally.

When they first started, we didn’t speak to each other (exactly the push pull dynamic we had back in high school) but as the days went by, the drama became more interesting; we became closer and the things I regretted to do while I was still friends with her, I felt comfortable doing them in the dreams which is still weird to me.

It might sound corny but I realized that I never understood how she got past my walls when I always guarded myself because I was an extremely sensitive person. The feeling in the dream wasn’t romantic. It was more like I was trying to solve a mystery that had followed me for years.

Why was she the one person who managed to affect me that deeply?

Why can I remember details about our friendship more vividly than friendships that were objectively healthier?

I still cherish the friendship because, despite all the confusion and emotional chaos, it made that period of my life feel meaningful. But it’s strange that after all this time, what lingers isn’t heartbreak.

It’s confusion.

I’ve had friendships end before. I’ve had people come and go. Usually, once enough time passes, I stop caring.

With this friendship, I never fully got an answer.
(I need a response from someone else’s perspective and no, it wasn’t romantic;I know how I am when romantically interested in a person and if I’m to entertain the idea of it being romantic I still don’t understand how and why)

Has anyone else had a friendship that affected them more deeply than actual romantic relationships? And years later, do you still find yourself trying to understand what exactly you were feeling?

I still don’t understand why one friendship affected me more than any relationship ever could

I’m in my early 20s now, and there’s a friendship from high school that still confuses me years later.

For context, I’ve always been someone who pulls away when people get too close. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed throughout my life. I keep people at arm’s length, have very few close friends, and when someone starts getting emotionally attached too quickly, my instinct is usually to detach.

Which is why what happened with “Hannah” makes absolutely no sense to me.

We met at an all-girls boarding school when we were around 15-16 years old. We knew each other throughout our time there but we only became very close friends in our fourth year. We became close very quickly. Looking back, our friendship was intense from the beginning. We spent a lot of time together, talked constantly, and developed this weird push-and-pull dynamic that lasted for years.

The strange thing is that I can’t even explain what I felt for her.

I don’t think it was a normal friendship, but I also don’t know if it was a crush. I wasn’t sitting around imagining dating her or anything like that. What I remember most was how much emotional power she had over me.

If she was upset with me, my entire day was ruined.

If we weren’t talking, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

If she gave me attention, I felt amazing.

If she pulled away, I felt awful.

And yet at the same time, being close to her was exhausting.

The friendship had become too unhealthy but for some reason I didn’t want it to end. She also knew that it had become unhealthy but I really couldn’t tell what she thought in that moment; we would get jealous at being being too close with others, inability to communicate with each other properly and the anxious avoid at tendencies from both parties.

We had communication issues, misunderstandings, periods where we’d get really close and then suddenly become distant. There was always some kind of tension underneath everything.

At the time, I was also struggling with depression, anxiety, and a very unhealthy relationship with food, so I know that probably intensified my emotions. But even taking all of that into account, the way I felt about her still seems disproportionate.

What confuses me most is that she was the complete exception to my normal behavior.
You could write it like this:

What confuses me most is that she was the complete exception to my normal behavior.

I’ve always valued my independence and tend to keep a certain emotional distance from people. Forming deep attachments has never come naturally to me, and when someone starts getting emotionally close too quickly, my usual instinct is to pull away rather than lean in. It’s a pattern I’ve noticed throughout my life.

But with Hannah, the opposite happened. Instead of creating distance, I became deeply attached. I found myself thinking about her constantly and caring far more about her opinions, feelings, and our friendship than I normally would. Changes in our relationship affected me emotionally in a way I wasn’t used to, and even years later I still find myself reflecting on the friendship and trying to understand why it had such a lasting impact on me. That’s what makes it so confusing my feelings for her don’t fit the pattern I’ve seen in myself with almost anyone else.

Every other time someone has tried to get close to me, I’ve eventually withdrawn. Yet somehow she got past every defense I normally have.

Even now, years later, I still dream about her occasionally.

When they first started, we didn’t speak to each other (exactly the push pull dynamic we had back in high school) but as the days went by, the drama became more interesting; we became closer and the things I regretted to do while I was still friends with her, I felt comfortable doing them in the dreams which is still weird to me.

It might sound corny but I realized that I never understood how she got past my walls when I always guarded myself because I was an extremely sensitive person. The feeling in the dream wasn’t romantic. It was more like I was trying to solve a mystery that had followed me for years.

Why was she the one person who managed to affect me that deeply?

Why can I remember details about our friendship more vividly than friendships that were objectively healthier?

I still cherish the friendship because, despite all the confusion and emotional chaos, it made that period of my life feel meaningful. But it’s strange that after all this time, what lingers isn’t heartbreak.

It’s confusion.

I’ve had friendships end before. I’ve had people come and go. Usually, once enough time passes, I stop caring.

With this friendship, I never fully got an answer.
(I need a response from someone else’s perspective and no, it wasn’t romantic;I know how I am when romantically interested in a person and if I’m to entertain the idea of it being romantic I still don’t understand how and why)

Has anyone else had a friendship that affected them more deeply than actual romantic relationships? And years later, do you still find yourself trying to understand what exactly you were feeling?

I think I just had an epiphany about my relationship with food and I’m not sure what to make of it.

For context, I’m a 20-year-old woman with PCOS and I’ve always been plus-size. Growing up, I was bullied about my appearance. Looking back, it wasn’t always just about my weight — I was called ugly a lot too. I was also catcalled and harassed in public when I was younger, which is something I’ve never really told anyone.

As a teenager, I went to boarding school. Around that time, I was struggling with depression, anxiety, academic pressure, fear of failure, and a difficult friendship that took a huge emotional toll on me. Food at school wasn’t really to my taste, and my emotions have always had a strong influence on my appetite. When I’m stressed or depressed, my eating habits can change dramatically.

My self-esteem was heavily tied to performance. I felt pressure to get top grades, avoid mistakes, meet expectations, and lose weight. A lot of my sense of worth came from how well I was doing and whether I was disappointing people.

After high school, I took a gap year and moved back home. That’s when I gained a significant amount of weight. I started binge eating, especially sugary foods. I wasn’t necessarily eating huge meals, but the cravings felt uncontrollable. At the time, my parents believed I was gaining weight because I was overeating or eating the wrong foods, but I always felt like something else was going on. I was later diagnosed with PCOS, which explained some of the hormonal issues I was experiencing.

I’ve tried fasting and other unhealthy weight-loss methods in the past. More recently, I’ve been trying to focus on balanced meals, exercise, and managing my PCOS. Because of that, I genuinely thought I had moved past any unhealthy relationship with food.

But today something clicked.

I was discussing calorie deficits and realized that the idea of eating the amount of calories I would actually need to lose weight made me uncomfortable. My first reaction was that it was “too much.” A part of me still feels like the minimum calorie threshold (you can look it up)is more reasonable, even though logically I know that’s probably too low for someone my size.

Then I realized I still feel guilty after eating.

Not every single time, but often enough that I didn’t even notice it anymore because it felt normal.

Now I’m wondering whether I still have some of the underlying thought patterns associated with disordered eating, even though I don’t fit the stereotype people usually imagine. Because I’m plus-size, I never seriously considered that possibility.

I don’t know whether this points to an eating disorder, disordered eating, or just years of internalized beliefs about weight, food, and self-worth. I only know that realizing how uncomfortable I felt about eating an appropriate amount of food for weight loss was a huge wake-up call.

Has anyone else had a realization like this years later? Especially if you thought your relationship with food had improved?

I think I just had an epiphany about my relationship with food and I’m not sure what to make of it.

For context, I’m a 20-year-old woman with PCOS and I’ve always been plus-size. Growing up, I was bullied about my appearance. Looking back, it wasn’t always just about my weight — I was called ugly a lot too. I was also catcalled and harassed in public when I was younger, which is something I’ve never really told anyone.

As a teenager, I went to boarding school. Around that time, I was struggling with depression, anxiety, academic pressure, fear of failure, and a difficult friendship that took a huge emotional toll on me. Food at school wasn’t really to my taste, and my emotions have always had a strong influence on my appetite. When I’m stressed or depressed, my eating habits can change dramatically.

My self-esteem was heavily tied to performance. I felt pressure to get top grades, avoid mistakes, meet expectations, and lose weight. A lot of my sense of worth came from how well I was doing and whether I was disappointing people.

After high school, I took a gap year and moved back home. That’s when I gained a significant amount of weight. I started binge eating, especially sugary foods. I wasn’t necessarily eating huge meals, but the cravings felt uncontrollable. At the time, my parents believed I was gaining weight because I was overeating or eating the wrong foods, but I always felt like something else was going on. I was later diagnosed with PCOS, which explained some of the hormonal issues I was experiencing.

I’ve tried fasting and other unhealthy weight-loss methods in the past. More recently, I’ve been trying to focus on balanced meals, exercise, and managing my PCOS. Because of that, I genuinely thought I had moved past any unhealthy relationship with food.

But today something clicked.

I was discussing calorie deficits and realized that the idea of eating the amount of calories I would actually need to lose weight made me uncomfortable. My first reaction was that it was “too much.” A part of me still feels like minimum calorie threshold is more reasonable, even though logically I know that’s probably too low for someone my size.

Then I realized I still feel guilty after eating.

Not every single time, but often enough that I didn’t even notice it anymore because it felt normal.

Now I’m wondering whether I still have some of the underlying thought patterns associated with disordered eating, even though I don’t fit the stereotype people usually imagine. Because I’m plus-size, I never seriously considered that possibility.

I don’t know whether this points to an eating disorder, disordered eating, or just years of internalized beliefs about weight, food, and self-worth. I only know that realizing how uncomfortable I felt about eating an appropriate amount of food for weight loss was a huge wake-up call.

Has anyone else had a realization like this years later? Especially if you thought your relationship with food had improved?

20F, get compliments from both men and women, but I’ve never been in a relationship. Does that mean anything?

I’m a 20-year-old woman (turning 21 soon), and something I’ve been wondering about is that I get compliments fairly regularly from both men and women. Sometimes people approach me just to tell me I’m pretty or compliment my appearance.

Even when I was under 18, I would get compliments from older men. That doesn’t make me feel good or validated—I’m only mentioning it because it’s been a consistent experience throughout my life.

What confuses me is that despite getting compliments and being approached, I’ve never been in a relationship. Most of the time, people either compliment me and move on, or if a man approaches me with more interest, it often feels sexual rather than romantic. I’ve never really had someone approach me in a way that made me feel like they genuinely wanted to get to know me as a person or pursue a relationship.

For context, I’m a pretty sensitive person. My heart is on my sleeve emotionally, but I’m also very guarded. I don’t open up easily, and trust takes time for me.

Lately I’ve been wondering: what does it mean when you receive attention and compliments from people, but you’ve never actually experienced a relationship? Is it possible to be perceived as attractive but not approachable for dating? Or am I overthinking this?

I also struggle with feeling sexualized at times because the attention I receive doesn’t often feel genuine or relationship-oriented.

Has anyone else experienced something similar?

I’m currently a non-degree student at the University of Ottawa in the Faculty of Social Sciences. I was previously asked to withdraw from my former program, which is why I’m now studying as a non-degree student. I’m also an international student, so I constantly have to deal with study permit paperwork and immigration requirements while trying to continue my education in Canada.

The issue is that I have no intention of returning to my former program and I want to remain in my current field/program instead. I’m confused about how to properly explain this in the uoZone admissions/application form, especially since there are questions related to previous studies and academic standing.

I’m also in the process of applying for a study permit extension. Should I wait until I’m officially accepted back into a degree program before applying for the extension, or can I start the process now as a non-degree student? Are there any extra steps international students in this situation usually need to take?

If anyone has gone through something similar at uOttawa or as an international student in Canada, I’d really appreciate advice.