What unforgettable experience in your life has hardened you as a person?

What unforgettable experience in your life has hardened you as a person?

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
What was 1 unforgettable experience in your life that
hardened you as a person? Story One.
Working in the back of an ambulance exposes you to so many
terrible things. One that has always stayed with
me was a call for a 30 year old woman after an attempt to end
her life. She jumped before we got there,
but she was still conscious and very much alive.

(00:20):
On the way down she hit a balcony and shattered her arm in
a huge open fracture. That alone wasn't the most
memorable part, but when we arrived and put our high
visibility jackets on, I looked over at my partner who was just
a few feet ahead of me. Standing frozen in shock, I
turned toward the patient and saw her biting and tearing at
her own broken arm. I don't know why it unsettled me

(00:43):
so deeply, but the thought that someone could be in such a
fragile state of mind that they would RIP at their own flesh was
something I have never been ableto forget.
Story 2. Spending over 12 months in
juvenile detention definitely changed me.
I have also been to jail and honestly they are almost the
same. Violence still happens there,

(01:03):
people still get abused, there are addicts in both places, and
even though deaths are less frequent in juvenile detention,
kids can be ruthless. The bullying felt worse in there
than in jail. At least in jail I only got one
comment about having long hair in the holding cell at court,
but none once inside. In juvenile detention, I saw

(01:24):
kids torment each other constantly and I was mocked
after catching lice from others there.
It only stopped when I finally fought back.
The hardest part came after release.
I struggled to build normal relationships, felt safest being
alone, and the night terrors stuck with me.
For years I would dream I was back inside, going through the

(01:45):
routine of showers, meals, and classes, only to wake up
drenched in sweat in my real bed.
Those dreams felt real and exhausting, and I began to dread
sleeping. That experience left me
depressed for the next 10 years,caught in toxic relationships,
using substances, and falling into crime again because I could
not function in society. Even now, I still struggle with

(02:07):
the simplest things. I work but I avoid dating
because it feels like too much. Before all that I had good
grades, a job on the side, a girlfriend I had been with for a
year, a baby sister just born, and close friends I spoke to
every day. Now all I have is my job.
Story three I was diagnosed withmultiple sclerosis 13 years ago

(02:30):
at the age of 43. My husband left a few years
later and I have no family support except for my daughter
who helps me. I never remarried and do not
believe I ever will because I feel I would only be a burden.
I cannot do the things I used tolove, cannot drive, and cannot
tolerate being outside in the heat due to weakness.

(02:51):
At 56 I live on disability benefits, barely getting by with
no savings or future. My quality of life is low and I
struggle with depression. My cats bring me comfort and
joy, and my daughter bought me the laptop I am typing on now,
which allows me to stay connected and watch movies, even
though my eyesight has worsened with macular degeneration.

(03:12):
Speaking is difficult due to cognitive decline, but I can
still express myself when I type.
I have learned to cope with the loneliness, but it has hardened
me. I try not to envy others who
live normal lives, though. I feel like I'm simply waiting
for the end, which may still be 15 or more years away.
I fear the thought of ending up in a care home and being

(03:33):
mistreated there. Still, I remind myself that I
had 43 good years, and for that I am grateful.
Health is the most precious thing in life.
Be thankful if you have it. Story 4.
I did nothing to deserve what happened, but my parents, who
were likely dealing with their own issues, were convinced by a
manipulative person that despitelab tests showing no substances

(03:55):
in my system I must have been secretly using between middle
school and high school, two men showed up in my room at 3:00 in
the morning and took me without explanation.
From Phoenix to Idaho. I spent a month in the desert
with one set of clothes, no toiletries, and nothing but a
tarp to sleep on. Every day was the same.
Wake up, hike 15 to 20 miles, set up camp, sleep and repeat.

(04:20):
With almost a week spent completely isolated in a small
cave, I went from being a carefree kid to someone who hit
a large knife by my bed, ready to defend myself if anyone tried
to take me again. The strangest part is that when
my parents finally picked me up,they acted as if nothing had
happened. They gave me Cinnabon at the
airport and spoke excitedly about me starting at an

(04:41):
expensive new high school, but never mentioned the ordeal.
That was 23 years ago, and it has never been discussed since.
While there, I learned things nochild should how to commit
crimes, make fake documents, anddeal substances.
For years afterward, I lived as a career criminal until finally
leaving that life behind a decade ago.

(05:04):
The memory of being marched barefoot through the airport,
handcuffed, and driven into the desert will never leave me.
Story 5 My mom let me watch Unsolved Mysteries, 60 Minutes,
Dateline, and the nightly news unsupervised from the age of
four. I also had a television in my
room and watch whatever late night programs were on.
That might not sound like a big deal, but I was old enough to

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understand what was being discussed, and this was during
the peak of violent crime in the1990s, when people like Jeffrey
Dahmer were being arrested. Every night I would search the
house for intruders, drawing thecurtain so no one could sneak up
on us. I memorized where every gun in
the house was stored. I saw countless stories about
children being harmed by their parents or guardians and it left

(05:48):
me terrified that if I stayed anywhere besides with my mom, I
could be attacked in my sleep. Looking back, I realize it was
deeply damaging even though my parents never intended it to be.
Today I see the difference clearly.
My daughter is 6 and cannot evenwatch 101 Dalmatians without
getting scared. That is how I know I have done

(06:09):
better by her Story 6. Being fired was one of the
hardest lessons I learned duringmy first week at that job.
The woman I was replacing was showered with kindness.
Everyone wished her well. They held a farewell lunch and
presented her with a big cake. I assumed I would leave the same
way someday. Instead, one Thursday I was told

(06:29):
I was being let go, but not to worry.
One of the owners also ran a landscaping crew and offered me
a position there for $10.00 an hour.
When I arrived at the new job I found myself surrounded by Co
workers who spoke only Spanish, which I didn't understand.
They treated me poorly, making me carry heavy loads and dig
ditches, clearly hoping I would quit.

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Later, another worker explained that the boss had given me this
job just to make me ineligible for unemployment benefits.
What they didn't realize was that I actually enjoyed hard
physical labor. It felt like being paid to work
out. Still, the transition was
jarring. I went from being valued at one
company to feeling isolated and unwelcome at another.

(07:11):
I stayed there for over 5 years and witnessed countless new
hires being pushed until they quit.
I always knew I would never be leaving with cake or a
celebration. Sure enough, in July of 2020, I
was let go when the business downsized due to the
coronavirus. Story 7 My youngest sister's
birth changed everything for me.I was 14 and at the time we were

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homeless. I resented my mom for being
pregnant and planned to dislike the baby too.
I blamed her father and saw the child as just another burden.
But the moment I met her, my feelings shifted.
She was so small, innocent, and perfect, and I realized I could
love no one more. Right then.
I decided I would do everything I could to make sure she didn't

(07:57):
grow up the way I had. That summer I got my first job
and for the rest of high school I work full time while also
caring for my siblings. I provided food, cooked, cleaned
and often stayed up for nighttime bottle feedings,
sometimes falling asleep in class from exhaustion.
Those years taught me that few people truly understand or care

(08:18):
about what others are going through.
When I moved out at 17, my little sister begged me not to
leave. She cried, saying our siblings
disliked her and she would be alone without me.
My heart broke, but I could not stay in that environment.
Since then, I have kept a close eye on her.
My husband and I care for her almost every week and though she

(08:38):
is doing better, I still call Child Protective Services
regularly due to neglect though little changes.
As difficult as it has been, I truly believe I would not be the
person I am today if she had notbeen born.
Story eight I was picked on by abully for months.
His older brother always protected him which made the

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younger 1 arrogant and cruel. He stole things, mouthed off,
pushed people around and knew that if anyone fought back, his
Big Brother, who had already been held back twice and was
older and stronger than the restof us, would step in.
I reported the bullying to teachers, to our bus driver,
even to the vice principal, but nothing was ever done.

(09:22):
One day the older brother turnedon him and suddenly he had no
protection. When the bully came after me
again, I decided I wasn't going to take it anymore.
In front of the whole school. I fought back and beat him.
I was suspended for fighting. It happened on a Friday on my
birthday. I was devastated, terrified of
what would happen next. My mom picked me up.

(09:44):
I told her everything, and she called my dad.
Instead of punishing me, they took me to breakfast on Monday.
When my dad met with the vice principal, he tore into her,
criticizing her failures as an administrator in language so
sharp I still remember it. The bell rang while he was still
speaking, and he dismissed me toclass over her objections.
That whole experience changed me.

(10:05):
The adults who told me to come to them for help abandoned me.
Only when I stood up for myself did the system suddenly come
alive, not to deliver justice, but to silence me.
Since then, I've had a problem with authority figures who
demand accountability from others but refuse to hold
themselves to the same standard.I cannot abide hypocrisy and I

(10:27):
will never quietly accept injustice again.
Story 9 The summer I turned 18, the father of my best friend
barricaded himself inside his house.
When the police tear gassed it, he put a 357 Magnum in his mouth
and pulled the trigger. I spent three days breathing in
the lingering tear gas while helping clean the place.

(10:47):
We scrubbed blood and brain matter, including a six foot
wide puddle on the basement floor that had dripped down from
above. You cannot imagine how much
blood is in the human body untilyou see it spilled everywhere.
And unlike in movies, when someone shoots themselves like
that, they don't always fall immediately.
He had apparently staggered several feet along the wall,

(11:08):
leaving behind a long smear of blood, hair and tissue before
collapsing. Once the cleaning was nearly
done, I walked through the house.
He had been standing in the opendoorway of a bedroom closet when
he pulled the trigger. We had cleared out the closet
and cleaned it, but never closedthe sliding doors.
When I tried to shut them, one stuck.
Looking up, I saw something blocking the track.

(11:31):
I pried it loose with my pocket knife, caught it in my hand, and
realized I was holding a perfectly round piece of skull,
exactly the diameter of the bullet.
For three days I hadn't gotten sick, but that was the moment I
finally vomited. It happened 49 years ago this
month, and I still remember it as vividly as if it were
yesterday. Story 10 Finding my son gone

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from sudden infant death syndrome on the morning after
the winter solstice shattered me.
He was so stiff, so cold, that Icould not even move his arms.
He felt like a frozen doll. Unreal.
He had been such a big boy for his age, nearly walking with a
strong chest, always smiling when I came to get him in the

(12:16):
mornings. But not that morning.
He had passed away on his side and the blood had settled to 1/2
of his body, leaving that side purple and red while the other
was pale white like porcelain. His lips were black, dry and
cracked. His eyes, half open, no longer
shone bright blue, but a cloudy Gray, glazed and exhausted.

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In desperation, I began CPR and his body expelled vomit into my
mouth. The smell was awful, not like
milk, but sickly, sour and wrong.
And then there was the smell of death itself, a heavy, sweet
odor that lingered for months inthe house, in the clothes, even
in the car's air conditioning. For years it would suddenly

(13:00):
return and I would pull over, tears running silently down my
face, because by then I had learned to cry without sound.
The grief aged me, left me wandering through life as if
broken. It took over 10 years before I
could let him go, but even now Iam not the same.
There is the me before and the me after.

(13:22):
That is all that remains. Story 11 When I was 11, I rode
my bike to a nearby park with tall wooden fences, some of them
with small decorative holes. One fence surrounded A shallow
pool meant for children. I noticed a grown man crouched
on the opposite side of the fence, taking photographs
through the openings. I kept biking, parked out of

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sight, and waited until he left,unsure of what I had really
seen. I told one of the lifeguards.
I do not know if they believed me or if anything came of it,
but I never saw that man again. Still, for weeks afterward, I
was afraid he might return and retaliate.
Somehow nothing ever happened, but I found myself riding my

(14:03):
bike far less, even though I hadonce loved the freedom of it.
Story 12 My ex used to abuse me and he got away with everything.
I was weak, broken, and living with severe trauma.
If I had not been in that state,I could have gone to court with
undeniable proof, even a 911 call that revealed all the lies
he and his police friends created.

(14:25):
But every holiday season, especially Christmas, my
favorite time of year, became tied to court dates and endless
battles with him. I gave up because I needed
peace. The experience hardened me,
teaching me how easily people manipulate the justice system
and how officers can abuse theirpower when they protect one of
their own. I wish I had had the courage and

(14:46):
strength to fight, but I was dealing with concussions, a near
stroke, and a system that told me I was the one retaliating.
He walked away untouched, not because of forgiveness, but
because I had nothing left to give.
I still believe officers need far better training and handling
domestic violence cases, especially in separating

(15:07):
friendship from justice. There is no such thing as
retaliation when a woman shows up covered in bruises, finally
ready to tell her truth, only tobe photographed, dismissed and
told nothing can be done. Even now, I sometimes wonder who
had access to those photos, and the thought makes me sick.
Story 13 My ex used to corner mein the kitchen, screaming in my

(15:29):
face and using threatening body language that made it clear he
wanted to hurt me but was just barely restraining himself.
This happened weekly, sometimes daily.
Hours of my life were spent frozen, dissociating or trying
to keep panic attacks at Bay. He would point fingers in my
face, crack his neck while glaring into my eyes, slowly pop

(15:51):
his knuckles, spit flying on to me as he shouted.
Anything I said only made it worse, but silence led to
accusations that I didn't care about him, which sparked another
tirade. There was no escape, no way to
win. If I went against my nature and
yelled back suddenly he would burst into tears.
And then it became my responsibility to comfort him

(16:12):
and rebuild his ego. If I refused, the cycle began
all over again. Eventually, he did escalate to
physical violence. I did leave two years ago, but
the scars remain. I cannot cry, I dissociate
quickly and even the thought of being in trouble.
And I do not trust others. Worst of all, I no longer trust
myself. Story 14 Before the pandemic, I

(16:35):
traveled often, By Canadian standards at least.
I alternated between international trips one year and
domestic ones the next. My last trip was in 2019.
I began in Amsterdam with the goal of eventually spending a
month in Georgia. I never made it that far, but I
still hope to see it one day. About two months into the

(16:55):
journey, I reached a country on the Black Sea, traveling alone
by train and bus. I stayed in a hostel in the
capital, met some great people and had a good time.
Until one night when everything changed.
On my way back to the hostel after dinner, a club promoter
stopped me, offering a free drink if I came along.
It sounded harmless enough at that point.

(17:18):
I had a solid alcohol tolerance after two months of travelling,
and I'd only had two pints of beer with dinner, so I felt
fine. I don't remember anything after
that free drink. I woke up alone in an empty
apartment with a locked Europeanstyle door that required a key.
My jacket was missing, but I still had my wallet, phone and a

(17:38):
lucky coin I always carried. On the counter was a cigarette,
which I smoked inside out of spite.
From a balcony I climbed onto the roof of a neighboring
building and down into the courtyard, but the main door was
locked. Searching for someone to help, I
climbed another set of stairs, past rubble and debris, until I
found a pair of Crocs outside a door.

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A confused but kind man opened up and let me out.
I tried going to the embassy, but it was closed since it was
Saturday. Back at the hostel, I discovered
my passport was gone and most ofmy money had been drained from
my bank account. I went to two different police
stations, but neither was helpful, though I did file a
report at one point. Desperate for Wi-Fi, I begged a

(18:21):
restaurant for help. The waitress listened to my
story, gave me free water, and her small act of kindness nearly
brought me to tears. That night, I wandered the city,
dodging stray dogs until I founda room around 2:00 in the
morning. I spent the following week
waiting for emergency travel documents before finally going
home. That trip hardened me.
It was the first time I realizedhow easily people will take

(18:44):
everything from you without a thought.
Since then, I've been far more wary of strangers, always
bracing for hidden motives. Still, I hold on to the memory
of that waitress who gave me water, and it keeps me from
becoming completely cynical. Story 15 When I was 13, I caught
my brother trying to take his own life with a belt around his

(19:04):
neck in a bag over his head. I barely got there in time.
I would not have even known whatwas happening if my sister had
not heard faint choking sounds through the floor.
His room was beneath the living room.
That moment scarred her deeply, and it affected me too, more
than I like to admit. Since then, I have struggled to
maintain a relationship with him, but it made me far more

(19:27):
mindful of others. You never truly know what
someone is going through, whether they seem cruel or kind.
He is doing very well now in such a different place, and I
know that if I had not reached him that day, he would never
have lived to see the bright future he has now.
I love him deeply. The memory of that night still
haunts me, but it also makes me love the people in my life even

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more because I know how fragile it all is.
It humbled me, shaped me, and will likely stay with me
forever. Story 16.
I went through three years of pure misery.
At home I was abused and at school I was bullied not only by
other students but also by teachers.
It was so bad that the son of the main teacher who bullied me

(20:12):
ended up working at the school just to be kind of the kids his
mother had tormented. Those three years of my life
were filled with constant yelling, name calling, being
hit, and learning how to duck blows.
I went from being an outgoing, loving, and friendly child to
someone who barely spoke at all.In kindergarten, I lived on
base, and I was the kid who welcomed every new family, eager

(20:35):
to make friends with their children.
But by 18, when I met some of the friends I still have today,
I barely spoke. They joke that it took two years
to get me to open up, and now I never stop talking.
Still, the transformation shows just how much damage can be
done. Imagine what it takes to turn a
cheerful extrovert into someone more closed off than most

(20:55):
introverts. They know that kind of change
takes real cruelty. Story 17 When I was 14, I was a
punk. I got bullied just for existing,
for being Asian in a neighborhood where racism
thrived despite all its supposeddiversity.
I already carried anger from problems at home, so joining up
with punks to fistfight skinheads nearly every week gave

(21:16):
me an outlet. But it was also a gateway to
worse things. After brutal fights, I often
numb myself with pills, drank until blackout, and likely
endured injuries that should have sent me to the hospital. 1
morning I woke up bloodied on a curb near a friend's
neighborhood and it hit me if I did not stop, I was going to end
up dead. I had always sensed that, but

(21:39):
the rage and substances clouded my judgement.
I still love the music and the message, but I cannot go back to
that lifestyle. I am older now, healing takes
longer and I would never keep up.
Still, one thing has never changed.
Neo Nazis will always be nothingbut human trash to me.
Story 18 When I was around 10, Icame across a magazine meant for

(22:02):
kids that shared real stories about the world.
In it, I read interviews with children freed from slavery and
textile factories in Bangladesh.I read about tiger shrimp
farming and how it destroyed local environments and lives,
but the story that broke me was about how every year massive
corporations burn food worth billions to keep market prices

(22:22):
up, even while people starve every single day.
They could easily donate that food, turn it into a public
relations campaign, even write it off on taxes and still
profit, but they chose destruction instead.
That day I lost something. My faith in humanity maybe.
I think I even wrote a letter toone of those companies with my
idea to donate food, but no one ever answered.

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I cared, and I still care deeplyto this day.
I cannot understand how anyone can prioritize imaginary numbers
in a bank account over living beings.
It is something I will never forgive or fully comprehend.
Story 19. We lost our baby boy to Sudden
Infant Death Syndrome when he was eight months old.

(23:05):
He was the most handsome little guy I had ever seen.
We all went to bed that night, as usual.
He wasn't sick, he didn't have afever, there was nothing wrong
with him. But in the morning, he was gone.
Our daughter, now 15, is severely autistic, nonverbal,
with meltdowns, stemming aggression at times, and still

(23:25):
in diapers despite years of trying every possible approach.
Doctors refused to consider birth control to help manage her
monthly cycle, and trying to explain what is happening to a
grown woman with the mind of a child is nearly impossible.
There are times when she still smears and we are left to manage
as best we can. On top of that, I served three

(23:46):
tours overseas. I am not proud of what I did.
I know I took sons away from fathers and I took a lot from
families in a war we all knew was meaningless.
I struggle with thoughts that losing Austin was some kind of
cruel karma. For all of that, my childhood
was no better. My mother left my father for
another woman in the 1980s in small town Texas, where everyone

(24:07):
knew. My dad despised me because I
reminded him of her, and my stepmother treated me like an
outsider while showering her ownkids with love.
They skipped my birthdays, ignored my school events.
Even when my team went to state playoffs in football at the old
Dallas Cowboys stadium in Irving, no one showed up.
Meanwhile, my mom and her partner tried to beat the

(24:29):
masculinity out of me daily. I grew up feeling unwanted and
unloved. Today I look at the state of the
world and see no hope. Those in power have us divided,
fighting each other, blinded to their lies and corruption.
People tear into neighbors for needing help with groceries
while the politicians take salaries for life, pass secret
bills and commit crimes with impunity.

(24:51):
It's a big club and we are not in it yet.
We do nothing, too scared to risk the little we have to make
tomorrow better. I beg for humility.
Stop the hate, stop the arrogance.
Stop believing race, wealth or religion make anyone superior.
The strings of power are not pulled for us and believing

(25:12):
otherwise is delusional. Anger hardened me and it still
does. Headlines full of sensationalism
pushed me to rage, and sometimesI wonder if it is intentional.
In the end, I remind myself thatanger is like drinking poison
while expecting someone else to die.
Story 20I once worked on a project supporting the Canadian

(25:32):
Truth and Reconciliation Inquiryinto residential schools.
We listen to testimony from survivors, men, women, some
elderly, some middle-aged and even some not much older than
me. For context, these schools were
institutions where Indigenous children were forcibly taken
from their homes by the government, meant to assimilate
them into Christian English speaking society.

(25:54):
The last school closed in the 1990s when I was still a
teenager. If I had been born Indigenous, I
could have been sent to one. Most testimonies were of
horrific but well documented abuse, beatings, humiliation,
punishment for speaking their own language, forced conversion,
and worse. Patterns were consistent,
corroborated by thousands of voices over decades.

(26:16):
But one story broke me completely.
An elderly woman recounted how she had been raped by a priest
and impregnated. She was forced to remain in the
school, and when she gave birth,the teachers immediately threw
her baby into the furnace used for heating the building.
She described in painful detail the sounds, the moments, the
helplessness of listening as herchild died.

(26:37):
Hearing her speak those words shattered something in me that
has never been the same story. 21 When I became a teacher at a
high school inside a juvenile prison, I quickly realized that
the way disadvantaged youth are portrayed on television is
misleading. Some truly did grow up without
parents or supervision, essentially raised in the
streets. But just as many came from

(26:58):
families and still became predators.
Many would be released only to reoffend and end up in adult
prisons. A frightening number showed no
care at all for their victims, and when combined with an
inability to control their anger, it became a deadly mix.
The S offenders were different. They were usually quiet and well
behaved in class, but when you looked in their eyes, there was

(27:20):
something unsettling there, something hard to ignore.
Many of them reoffended as well.I also learned first hand that
the courts are not harsher on minorities than on others.
They are harsher on the poor, whether white or black.
If you were poor, you face longer sentences.
I saw poor white trash serving years longer than wealthy kids

(27:42):
from affluent neighborhoods who committed the same crimes.
A rich school shooter who didn'tkill anyone received 18 months.
A poor school shooter who didn'tkill anyone received six years.
Both were white. The difference was money, not
race. I also realized that no TV show
or movie has ever given a truly realistic picture of prison life

(28:03):
Story 22. I once had about $100 to my
name, and I needed to make it stretch.
My brother, let's call him George, has always struggled
just to function, and when the family got together for dinner
at a buffet, everyone was expected to pay for themselves.
George couldn't afford it, and he began looking around for
someone to cover him. I gave in and paid, even though

(28:26):
it was a huge sacrifice for me. At the time, a different brother
had generously covered the cost for us all to attend a concert
together afterward, which was thoughtful.
But when we got to the venue, George disappeared.
After searching, we found him atthe concession stand with two
$14.00 beers, cigarettes and fries, spending at least $40.
I was stunned and hurt. Life was incredibly hard for me

(28:50):
then. I had just lost my job and had
no financial security. That moment opened my eyes.
I realized George was like the stranger outside a convenience
store spinning stories for money.
Since then, I've been far less sympathetic and do not give to
people who beg, even when they ask for food.
Story 23 My home life was never perfect, but I didn't realize

(29:12):
how much it had shaped me until I went to college.
There I met my first real love and the relationship, though it
only lasted 6 months, completelychanged me.
We originally matched on Tinder in 2019, but nothing came of it
until months later when I had started College in the city, 2
hours from home. He reached out and soon we made

(29:32):
plans to meet. He seemed perfect.
His looks, personality and intelligence were everything I
thought I wanted. At first it felt magical.
We spent weekends together. He asked me to be his girlfriend
and I said yes, even though I knew it was moving too fast.
Raised by a single mom and a controlling grandmother, I had
no example of healthy love and Ididn't realize the warning

(29:54):
signs. Within weeks, he was telling me
he loved me, talking about a future and showering me with
affection. Classic love bombing.
Then, out of nowhere, he went through my phone and found old
photos I had sent to someone long before we met.
From that point, everything shifted.
He manipulated me, gas lit me, and their relationship turned

(30:16):
into a cycle of chaos. He would break things, scream,
and nearly leave me countless times only to pull me back with
crumbs of affection. I became dependent on him,
losing myself completely. The breaking point came one
night when I went to his house after work.
He refused to let me in, flip meoff through the window.

(30:36):
Then when I pleaded, he punched me in the face, breaking my
nose. Afterward he comforted me as
though nothing had happened, then soon after told me he was
leaving the state. The relationship ended, but the
damage remained. It took me 3 years to research,
learn, and process what had happened.
I lost 40 lbs, fell into depression, and tried substances

(30:58):
to cope. I've recovered in many ways, but
I still carry the scars, physical and emotional.
I haven't been able to fully connect with anyone since.
Yet as painful as it was, the hardened parts of me have given
me strength and awareness I never would have had otherwise.
Story 24 When I was 16, my mom kicked me out of the house with

(31:20):
nowhere to go. I was the youngest of three
children. My brother was five years older,
my sister was three years older,and they shared the same dad
while mine was different. Both fathers left when we were
very young. By their teenage years, my
brother and sister were already in trouble with the police and
caught up in substances. When I was 14, my brother

(31:41):
overdosed and died, and that loss shook me.
I went from being in the top classes at school to sliding
into the middle ones, and I leftwith 5I, E's and 4D's on my
exams not long after. My mom thought the best thing
she could do was make me homeless.
I didn't speak to her again until I was 23.
No family member reached out to me.

(32:02):
I slept rough for a couple of nights before ending up in a
youth hostel, and slowly I builtmyself up from there.
A few years later, my sister also overdosed.
I never went down the path of substances or crime, but it took
me more than a decade before life felt remotely safe or
normal. 20 years later, I have agood job, make good money, and
have children of my own. My mom sees them once or twice a

(32:25):
month, but I keep her at arm's length.
I will never trust her to care for my kids and we have never
spoken about why she chose to throw me out.
Story 25 At 19, my abusive mom made me homeless.
My sister was abusive too and mymom always favored her.
With nowhere else to go, I endedup with my husband and I stayed
in that relationship for 14 years.

(32:47):
It was a different kind of abuse, subtle and controlling,
so much so that I didn't recognize it for what it was
until near the end. He wasn't violent and rarely
raised his voice, but he constantly humiliated me, made
cruel jokes at my expense, and controlled my life in ways that
cut me down. He convinced me I was terrible
at managing money, when in truthI'm doing excellent now and he's

(33:11):
the one buried in thousands of pounds of debt.
No one offered me real help. My dad told me to leave because
he knew I was unhappy, but neither he nor his family
offered me a place to go. I didn't realize it was abuse.
I only knew I was miserable, so I never went to the council or
domestic abuse charities for help.
Friends reached out once I left,but only for gossip and then

(33:33):
disappeared again. Now in my 30s, I am only just
learning the things I should have learned in my teens and
20s. I've tried to make new friends,
but paranoia and lingering trauma make it hard.
I suspect I'm living with PTSD. Story 26.
I grew up in private grade school and then transitioned to
public high school. I had always been a straight A

(33:54):
student with a good upbringing and before that I lived a
sheltered life where I thought everyone was good and no one
would ever hurt me. That changed when I entered high
school and met a group of so-called friends who were the
opposite of the people I had grown up with.
I thought I was lucky to be hanging out with the cool kids
and I spent most of my high school years with them.

(34:15):
While there were fun moments, they were not good influences
and treated me badly. My low self esteem made me
tolerate it because I cared moreabout fitting in than how I was
treated. After graduation.
The truth came out. Just two months into college,
that same group robbed my parents home.
All those years they had been pretending to be my friends
while secretly casing my house. The police suspected me as the

(34:37):
main culprit, and there was nothing I could do to prove
otherwise. The stress broke my mom, sending
her into a nervous breakdown. I dropped out of college, losing
my scholarship so I could take care of her.
My dad grew to resent me even more, and I spiraled into
paranoia, addiction, and depression for the next decade.

(34:57):
Learning to forgive those peoplewas the hardest hurdle of my
life. That experience tore away the
fantasy world I had grown up in and forced me to see reality.
It made me tougher and more street smart, but it also left
permanent scars. My mom eventually recovered,
though she was never the same. My dad has softened toward me,
though he has never said so directly.

(35:20):
After multiple DUISI stopped drinking in January of 2015.
I still regret not finishing school, but fear and trauma hold
me back. Every time I think about going
back I remember the collapse that started right when I began
college and it terrifies me. Story 27 I help run a chat room

(35:40):
for people struggling with treatment resistant depression
and anhedonia. Over time we have had many users
who were suicidal. One in particular was a young
Canadian guy. We talked him down countless
times. I spent hours messaging him
privately, trying to help him see beyond the darkness he felt
inside. He was outdoorsy, athletic and

(36:01):
kind, but relentlessly cruel to himself, half convinced he was
evil. For a while, he seemed to be
improving. He started therapy, found a job,
and even adopted a dog he adored.
He would gush about how much he loved and cared for it, posting
pictures, and the regulars in our chat room, myself included,

(36:21):
were thrilled to see him doing better.
Then, out of nowhere, his dog died.
It was like the universe had played a cruel joke on him.
Combined with other setbacks, hebegan to spiral again, worse
than before. One day he posted a picture of a
revolver and said he was playingRussian roulette alone.
Then he went silent. I panicked.

(36:42):
He had always refused to share his personal details, afraid
someone would get him committed.But I dug through his old posts
and piece together who he was. I called the local police, they
went to his house, but by the time they arrived he was already
gone. Later, another moderator accused
me of causing it, that maybe when he heard the police at the
door he pulled the trigger out of panic.

(37:04):
I'll never know the truth. What I do know is that I became
too emotionally invested in trying to save him in something
I could never fully control. I once wanted to be a therapist,
but after this I don't think I have the strength for it.
Story 28 In my 20s, I was working toward a PhD, all but
dissertation. Coming from a rough childhood,

(37:25):
reaching that point felt like a miracle.
I had been accepted to a school in the UK, but by then I had
been experiencing strange symptoms and years of
misdiagnosis. While back in the US for a
friend's wedding, I suddenly went blind.
That was when I was diagnosed with multiple Sclerosis.
I had no insurance, was hospitalized for weeks, and the

(37:46):
medical bills destroyed me financially.
I couldn't even return to the UKto collect the belongings I had
left behind since it was supposed to be just a one month
trip with nowhere to live. I crashed on a friend's floor
for a year until I could get some support because I had spent
all my assets paying the hospital.
I had nothing left. I was one year too old to

(38:07):
qualify for programs that helpedyounger patients, and I was 1/4
short of earning full disabilitydespite working since I was 15.
I ended up on SSI, forced to live below the poverty level for
life. Beyond the financial ruin, I had
to face the reality of Ms. sudden blindness, physical
decline, and the weight of uncertainty.

(38:28):
Doctors began treating me differently the moment they
realized I was low income. I call it being numb rather than
hardened, but it's the same. I don't flinch at life's
curveballs anymore, just stare them down.
In the years since, I've been the unlucky one who gets every
rare side effect listed on medications.
Once, I even tried an off marketchemotherapy substance that

(38:50):
seemed to stabilize me until my doctor missed warning signs and
my immune system collapsed. I had to quarantine and receive
IV infusions at home. This was just six months before
COVID lockdown. Through it all, the one steady
source of comfort has been my Amazon tortoise, my Angel.
Story, 29 I was living with my girlfriend when her father, who

(39:12):
was also my friend, took his ownlife.
He was an old hippie full of stories about the bands he had
seen in San Francisco, and we could talk for hours.
Afterward, I cleaned up what he left behind so his daughter
wouldn't have to. The smell of blood haunted me
for years. His son, who was severely
schizophrenic and living in a mental institution, came home

(39:34):
for the funeral. He stopped taking his medication
and one day decided I had killedhis father, convinced that
otherwise his dad's soul would go to hell.
Even though a police investigation had cleared
everyone, gunpowder residue tests and all, he didn't care.
He armed himself with two knivesand tried to attack me.
His sister blocked him on the staircase until the police

(39:56):
arrived. A few weeks later, while we were
visiting family on the East Coast, he escaped from the
hospital and went missing. When we returned, he was still
gone and we searched, putting upposters.
Eventually some kids hunting rabbits found his body.
He had crawled under brush by a river after ending his life
again. I was the one who helped
identify his body so my girlfriend wouldn't have to.

(40:19):
That period was a nightmare thatbroke me in ways I can't fully
describe. I'll never be the same, but I've
come far enough that I no longersmell the blood or see their
faces every day. Story 30 When I was 19, my
father was diagnosed with brain cancer.
The doctor said he had four to six months without surgery.
It would be 4 months with surgery, maybe 6, but he would

(40:41):
be left a vegetable with less than a 1% chance of surviving
more than a year. We chose quality of life and he
fought for eight months. He passed away on October 21st
just as life was beginning to settle again.
On February 14th of the next year, my mother collapsed with
heart and kidney failure. She felt fine except for a

(41:02):
cough, but my aunt, who was a nurse, insisted she get checked
at the clinic. The doctor turned pale after
checking her blood pressure 3 times.
It was 286 / 194. He told me to rush her to the
hospital immediately. By the time we got there, she
was rushed to ICU, gasping that she could not breathe.

(41:23):
One kidney had failed years earlier and now the other shut
down, drowning her lungs and fluid and straining her heart.
I took care of her for the next 13 years.
In that time, she endured 9 small heart attacks, decades of
smoking that calcified her veins, and endless dialysis
sessions 4 hours at a time, three days a week.

(41:43):
She never fully recovered and eventually died from ischemic
damage to her liver and intestines.
Today marks the 7th anniversary of her passing.
Losing both parents hardened me permanently.
I became jaded, unable to feel true happiness for the last 15
years. Story 31 After spending over 14
hours consoling a friend who wasthreatening to end her life, I

(42:07):
woke up the next day to find shehad told our mutual group of
more than 20 people that I had told her to go through with it.
In reality, at 4:00 in the morning, delirious, all I had
said was don't do anything stupid, I'm going to bed.
Thankfully everything was over text, so I took screenshots and
sent them to the group. They went from attacking me with
slurs and insults to realizing the truth and banishing her

(42:29):
instead. That experience taught me
several lessons. Always keep records when things
get heated if possible. Don't rely on overly emotional
people to make rational decisions.
And most importantly, surround yourself with people who
evaluate evidence rather than react blindly to accusations.
Having level headed people in your life is invaluable, but it

(42:51):
also broke my trust. Until then I had been the
therapist friend, always available to help anyone.
After that, I realized my mentalhealth had to come first.
I still help people, but I am much more selective now.
My heart is no longer wide open,and while that hurts because I
know I still have love to give, I believe it's better this way.

(43:12):
Story 32 When I was 15, I went shopping with my mom at the
fancy HEB in Alamo Heights, far from where we lived.
As we rearrange packages in the trunk, a homeless woman touched
my mom's elbow and asked for $5.My mom looked at her, saw how
thin and lightly dressed she was, and said, I'm not going to
give you money, but I'll get youa week's worth of groceries.

(43:35):
Together, we went back inside and bought her bread, milk,
peanut butter, Jelly, wine, toilet paper, soap, socks.
I've never forgotten that moment.
Around the same time, I realizedI had a knack for taking tests.
When asked how I did it, I explained that I went with my
first instinct, double checked my marks, then turned it in.

(43:55):
One teacher told me to sit at mydesk longer and shuffle papers
because everyone thought I was cheating.
That hurt me deeply. I knew I could replicate
anything on the spot if asked, but the idea of hiding my
ability just to make others comfortable made me furious for
a while. I did as she asked, then
stopped. She was a great teacher, but she
had been right about one thing. People still think I cheat, even

(44:19):
online. Later in my junior year, I tried
out for Tanglewood Music Camp. My teacher at the time, who was
like a second mother to me, threw away my audition tape,
telling me we should have been working on it earlier.
Still, I got into Boston University for academics and
audition for their band, earningfifth chair.
Weekly challenges allowed me to climb to second chair, competing

(44:42):
against others. My private teacher, who was
first chair, laughed when I asked if I could be a music
major. He pointed down the line,
showing me that nearly everyone there was a music major.
He let me sit in on his lessons with a member of the Empire
Brass, giving me priceless experience.
What I learned from those years is simple.
Get a second opinion, believe inyourself and put in the work.

(45:05):
Even the people you look up to can be wrong.
Tough moments can drive you to be better.
Story 33 It wasn't one single event, but the pandemic as a
whole changed me in ways I neverexpected.
I lost a friend of COVID. She was transgender, the first
transgender person I had ever really known, and she had
endured so many awful experiences seeking medical care

(45:27):
where she lived that when she got sick, she refused to go to a
doctor. I believe she could have
survived if she had sought treatment, but I also understand
why she didn't. On top of that, people around
her didn't care enough to take precautions that might have
protected her and others. Watching her die and watching
how people around me reacted opened my eyes.

(45:47):
I realized how little so many people actually cared about
whether others lived or died. I saw how selfish most people
became when it truly mattered. I witnessed A stunning lack of
empathy and people I had once thought better of.
I also saw how dangerous and corrosive extreme political
media on television and radio really was.

(46:08):
It was even worse than I had believed before.
Of course, not everyone was likethat, but the pandemic made it
impossible for me to ignore the truth.
It permanently shifted my perspective, leaving me far more
cynical about humanity than I ever thought possible.
Story 34 At 21, I went through abrutal pregnancy after birth
control failed. I lived in a state where

(46:30):
abortion was criminalized, so I had no choice but to carry to
term. I suffered from hyperemesis
gravidarum, constant vomiting sosevere it nearly sent me into
preterm labor. My boyfriend insisted he was
totally clean. Yet somehow during this time I
also contracted herpes. Not a single family member or
even my boyfriend offered real support.

(46:53):
Because society loves to mock women like me.
I kept it all inside. I ended up needing AC section,
but since no one wanted to help me, I never healed properly.
Postpartum psychosis followed, and I became convinced that
ending my life was logical. When I sought medical help, the
doctor reported me to Child Protective Services.
A social worker arrived at the clinic while I was there with my

(47:15):
baby, and suddenly everyone in the building knew.
The case was dismissed but I felt humiliated and hopeless.
To make matters worse, I had to return to work with my newborn
just two weeks after surgery. During the COVID outbreak.
Privileged mothers judge me harshly, but none of them knew
what it was like to have no choice.
All this came shortly after escaping a violent relationship

(47:37):
where I had been held hostage and beaten so hard I still have
memory problems. The police dismissed me and my
father even shook my abusers hand saying it was
understandable because I didn't know when to stop talking.
Around the same time I cut contact with my abusive mother
who was unsafe around the baby. I carried everything alone.

(47:58):
Years later life has improved but I am not the same.
I doubt I ever will be. Story 35 Once my roommate and I
found a stray puppy outside Walmart.
We couldn't keep her in our dormsince she wasn't potty trained
and the local Humane Society wasclosed until Tuesday.
We decided to let one of my roommates acquaintances watch
her for the day. We posted about the pup on

(48:19):
Facebook hoping her owner would see.
But by Tuesday things turn strange.
The acquaintance started acting oddly over text.
When we said we were coming to get the dog, she suddenly
claimed she had found the owner.She sent us a shaky video of
some random man holding the puppy and thanking us, but the
puppy didn't look happy or excited at all.
Then she blocked us everywhere, social media, phone, everything.

(48:43):
About a week later, a mutual friend told us she was posting
the puppy on her Instagram stories.
She had kept the dog for herself.
Story 36 When I was 18 or 19, I was nearly robbed for $200 while
trying to buy weed. I was naive and should have seen
it coming. A group of guys came out of the
woods just as the dealer pulled up.

(49:03):
Almost immediately I was struck in the head with a Billy club,
but somehow I managed to run. I barely knew the guy who had
set up the deal. He was just a friend of a friend
so I didn't know if he had set me up.
It turned out he hadn't and theybroke his jaw while running.
I passed out in the woods and woke up with my face in the
dirt. When I came to, I realized I was

(49:25):
behind the house where I had been partying earlier.
I went inside through the back door and the girl started
screaming when they saw me. I thought I was just sweating,
but my hoodie sleeve was soaked with blood.
At the hospital I needed stitches and still carry the
scar above my eye. The other guy's dad blamed me
for his broken jaw, but I had been terrified.

(49:45):
We were outnumbered 8 to 2, and my body chose flight over fight.
I felt guilty for leaving him, but we didn't stand a chance.
In the end, the attackers were punished through the justice
system. I received updates and requests
to testify but I never participated.
It was 3 hours away and I just wanted to forget.

(50:05):
Story 37 in school I had a friend a year younger than me.
We both got picked on a lot and found comfort in each other's
company. Hiding out in the library.
One day when I was 12 and she was 11, she told me her stepdad
was abusing her. I didn't know how to handle it
so I told her form tutor. After that she barely spoke to
me. I had broken her trust.

(50:27):
I moved on, found new friends, but I always said hello when I
saw her. She always looks sad, always
alone. Two years later, she came up to
me in the canteen and asked to talk.
She was terrified because her stepdad was being released from
prison. I gave her a hug and tried to
reassure her, but I didn't do much else.
Two days later, she ended her life.

(50:48):
I was likely the last person shereached out to.
I've had countless sleepless nights since, haunted by the
thought of what more I could have done.
That moment changed me forever. Story 38 I got my first period
when I was 12, in the middle of a school day.
My mom was neglectful, and when the school called to ask her to
pick me up because I had bled onmy chair and was crying, she

(51:12):
didn't come. I spent the entire day bleeding
through my clothes, too embarrassed to sit down,
standing in classes while boys mocked me.
I begged for help, but none of the girls had pads yet, and none
of the teachers carried any. There was no nurse's office in
my underfunded school. My grandma picked me up at the
end of the day. That experience left me deeply

(51:33):
ashamed of my body and my womanhood.
Later, after being assaulted by an abusive ex, the shame grew.
At 21, I developed anorexia and lost my period for a year.
At the time, I was relieved. It felt like that dirty part of
me was gone. But when my health improved and
my cycle returned, I realized itwas actually a sign of life, of

(51:55):
healing, of survival. Now I see my period as something
beautiful, proof that my body isstill fighting for me.
What I once hated has become something I love.
Learning to embrace it has been an act of rebellion and self
love. Transforming shame into pride
has made me stronger. Every day I thank God for a body

(52:15):
that has survived so much and still carries me.
My trauma taught me to love whatonce made me hate, and that
transformation is one of the bravest things I've ever done.
Story 39 In the fall of 2018, when I was 18, I got a call from
my uncle in Florida. He told me my dad was in the
hospital, close to death from drinking.
I was given power of attorney, and at 18 years old, I had no

(52:38):
idea what that even meant. Part of me was disgusted.
I had never gotten a diaper, a birthday card, or even the
slightest effort from him in my entire life.
But another part of me thought, he's still my father, and what
kind of person would I be if I didn't try?
The first time I saw him in the hospital, he was three times his

(52:59):
normal size, swollen and jaundiced so yellow it looked
like he had bathed in highlighter fluid.
He didn't even recognize me. Still, I told him, Regardless of
what took you away from me, I'm here now.
I'll be here until you're healthy again and I love you
because you created me. He spent a year in the hospital
and eventually received a liver and kidney transplant.

(53:20):
I visited him daily, used every bit of money I had for gas, food
and comforts for him. Twice he flat lined and was
revived. His ex-wife even suggested
letting him go, especially sinceI would have received $500,000
in life insurance as the beneficiary, but I refused.
He was still my dad. After his transplant, he became

(53:41):
like a new man, grateful for everything I had done.
Eventually I went to basic training and graduated in
February 2020. Through all of training, I never
got a single letter from him. When I called, he never
answered. On graduation day, my mom told
me he wasn't coming through tears.
All she could say was I'm sorry,he just didn't want to see you.

(54:03):
That was when it hit me. I had done everything for him
and he still did nothing for me.I should have known better.
Part of me still feels I should have pulled the plug.
Story 40 My mother eventually left because my father was
abusive. After that, I became the one he
targeted. This went on for a long time.
One day, after a particularly violent incident, I finally

(54:24):
reached out for help. Officials came, documented what
had happened and arrested him. When he returned, my mom was
contacted but said she couldn't take me.
Instead, I went to live with my grandparents on my dad's side
for a while. When I started high school, I
went to live with my mom in a tiny town of about 500 people.
She was dating a married man whose daughters were dating two

(54:45):
brothers, both * athletes. When their family split, the
daughters moved away and somehowit became my fault.
Those brothers started beating on me constantly.
I never beat the older one, but sometimes I could hold my own.
With the one my age, though, he usually had a friend to step in
when I started to gain the upperhand after what I had endured

(55:06):
from my father, their hits didn't even compare, but the
constant fights wore me down. The hardest realization came
decades later when I was in my 40s and talking with my wife.
We had two kids and she said I don't know how anyone could
leave their child in a situationlike that.
I'd find a way. That was when it finally sank
in. My mom had left me.

(55:27):
She left me with the man who beat her, knowing I was the one
taking the blows, and she still didn't come back.
That hardened me more than anything else.
I haven't spoken to either of myparents in years.
Story 41 Six years ago, just after turning 18, I went on a
solo working holiday to New Zealand.
I hitchhiked most of the way andbarely had any money, assuming

(55:49):
I'd find work, get paid, and then move on to the next place.
One of the farms I worked on was40 minutes from the nearest town
with almost no cell service. They gave me housing and an old
bike to get to work, but the conditions were awful.
The people there were verbally abusive, threatened me with
losing my room and wages, and even hinted at physical violence

(56:10):
if I made mistakes. I worked 16 hour shifts for
three months with almost no daysoff, trapped with no way out
since I had no real transportation.
I told myself it was my fault, that I wasn't doing my job well
enough. Eventually, I saved enough money
to rent a small, unreliable car.I asked for a week off to see
the island. The night I left, while driving

(56:32):
through a mountain pass, I was so exhausted that I speed
downhill, lost control, and nearly drove off a Cliff.
I came within centimeters of death.
On the drive to my hostel afterward, it hit me that what I
had endured wasn't just tough work, it was exploitation close
to slavery. I went back, collected my

(56:53):
belongings, and never returned to that farm.
That experience changed me. I still carry mental scars, but
it gave me the strength to neverlet anyone treat me or others
unfairly again. I don't think I could ever
return to that part of the worldwithout those memories flooding
back. But in its own way, the
experience shaped me for the better.
Story 42. It's hard to point to just one

(57:16):
experience because I was born into dysfunction.
Nearly everyone in my family struggled with mental illness,
and it spread into my own life as well.
When my parents divorced, I was split between two damaging
environments. On my dad's side, I wasn't
taught empathy or social skills.They spoiled me, gave me
everything I wanted, and excusedmy bad behavior.

(57:37):
They showed me, directly and indirectly, that cruelty was
acceptable. On my mom's side, things were
the opposite. She was strict, emotionally
abusive, and distant. That contrast between being
enabled in one house and punished in the other left me
masking my emotions, manipulating people, and lying
to survive. By the time I was diagnosed with

(57:59):
autism, the damage was already done.
My hatred for my mom grew into hatred for the rest of the
world. When I was about 5, a family
member encouraged me to be cruelto animals, even letting me hurt
them while they watched. They exposed me to horror films
where women were tortured and killed.
All of that twisted my mind and fed into patterns of cruelty.

(58:20):
Looking back, I feel like I was already predisposed to darkness,
but my family amplified it, shaping me into someone I never
should have been. Story 43.
In my 20s, I was an enabler. I had a close friend from my
teenage years who married a man addicted to substances, and he
eventually got her hooked as well.
They also introduced my high school sweetheart to substances.

(58:42):
The four of us live together more than once, and I was the
only one who consistently held down a job.
Once I went out of town for work, and when I came home a few
days later, everything valuable in the house was gone.
I kicked everyone out. A couple of years later when I
was trying to rebuild my life, they came back with sob stories,
claims of homelessness, promisesof sobriety, and insistence that

(59:07):
moving to a new place would givethem a fresh start.
I let them back in while I was away on a family vacation.
I came back to find the same thing.
My valuables stolen. I kicked them out again.
There were countless smaller examples of the same betrayal
during those years. But the second time I learned my
lesson. I cut all contact.

(59:27):
I had lost my job because of them.
So I left that place, drove backto my parents house in another
state and deleted every phone number.
Many years later I did reconnectwith them briefly, but by then I
understood boundaries and enabling.
I never let them affect my life the way they once had.
I also never again set myself onfire just to keep others warm.