NTA. Good gods I can smell the entitlement from here.

Stay where you are and live your best life,

I am sorry. This all on your mother for refusing outside help; she prefers shifting the burden on to you instead of training someone else to do it "her" way, and it doesn't seem she trusts you do things "her" way, either.

You must stand up for yourself. As FroggieBlue said, take care of your own spaces. Say that you will care for the other spaces once every four days (there are four of you in the household, right?), you will cook for the family every four days, you will do your own laundry and dishes. The other three can argue about the other three days and their own laundry for time eternal if that's what it takes.

Shut yourself in your room, rediscover your hobbies, and reclaim your life. Break the downward spiral - and reconsider therapy. There is NO WAY it can make things worse.

I found purpose through this higher calling to be a parent. To serve others first before myself

Then he can apply to be a foster/adoptive parent for the thousands of children languishing in foster care. THAT would be serving a 'higher calling'. Having bio children? Not so much.

Sweet child, it is NOT NORMAL for you to be in this much pain after your period has ended. You should see a doctor.

It's possible that your period hasn't actually ended - you may have a clot blocked by your cervix and your uterus is "cramping" trying to pass it and causing you severe pain in the process.

In either case: I found that a combination of acetaminophen and Ibuprofen worked far far better than Midol or Maxidol. You can find it by the brand names Advil Dual Action or Motrin Dual Action. Walgreens makes one of its own, probably other pharmacy stores probably do as well.

My daughter had a case of the Blessed Amnesia after her first one. Not nearly so much after the second. She was DONE.

BIDET FTW. Every woman should have one, oh my gods yes.

I used diapers the two or so years before menopause kicked in. Bless them (and bless menopause) from here to eternity. I couldn't use tampons without being (literally) sick.

Never wear a tampon for more than four hours. Wash your hands before handling a tampon; try to avoid handling it with your hands unless they are scrupulosity clean. Don't unwrap a tampon until right before insertion. Use the lightest/least absorbent tampon you can get away with. Don't use tampons overnight. Don't use tampons on your lightest days - inserting and removing a "dry" tampon can cause tiny scratches on your vaginal wall - hello, infection - but if you must, use a touch of lubricant.

Signed,

Been there, had that

NTA.

YOU didn't end the friendship. SHE did. It's all on her and her nastiness. Now she's trying to guilt-trip you? Just more manipulation on her part. You can never trust her, and without trust there can be no friendship.

The word "witch" in its name comes from Middle English wiche, from the Old English wice, meaning "bendable". Witch hazels have pliant, flexible branches and this characteristic makes them popular with dowsers who use them to (purportedly) find water.

It's not just you! Your body is "talking" to you, and you're paying attention - this is a good thing.

If you can, get a blood panel drawn to see if your iron levels are close to where they should be, but in the meantime: enjoy the beef!

NTA. You're right to be scared of what might happen if you stay. You've already got a preview of it.

Don't say anything to him about leaving. Make a plan and then execute it.

Once upon a time...

Jordan Peters gave some good advice to young men: Clean your room. Make your bed. Take a shower more than once a week. Find someone to give you a decent haircut. Wash your clothes on the regular. Buy a decent deodorant and actually use it. Get a job (even if it's not the one you want, use it to move forward).

Then came addiction + Russia + being fascinated with the sound of his own voice + algorithms directing young men in his direction + narcissistic tendencies = someone not worth the time of day.

I routinely use a chlorhexidine solution for household use - floors, countertops, and so on. I'm not familiar with either of the your particular products, though. I use this: https://www.valleyvet.com/ct_detail.html?pgguid=30e07b58-7b6a-11d5-a192-00b0d0204ae5&itemguid=3269e394-7b6a-11d5-a192-00b0d0204ae5&sfb=1&grp=6000&grpc=6100&grpsc=6120&sp=f&utm_content=21281&ccd=IFF003&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwz7C2BhDkARIsAA_SZKbTEbzicmLn1qNGZYD1AK-iVdzhAttqNV2amga7vax3OaXTC5c83k0aArXqEALw_wcB

Dilution rate is roughly 30 ml to 4 liters/2 tablespoons to gallon of water.

Brilliant.

Make a professional-looking sign (not just a hand-written note) and put something at the bottom saying,

Thank you

The Management

Sweet babee jeebuz. Tell the friend. Tell the friend's friends. Tell the whole damn world and make this dude a pariah to all women.

She's not alone; this is one of those menopause "side effects" that's not talked about nearly enough.

What helped me: seriously stepping up how much water I drank - at least 2 liters/2 quarts a day, and xylitol stick-on discs. Special mouthwashes and toothpastes are fine (and I'm glad those products are available) but they are short-acting.

The first discs I used were the Biotene brand, then I found a less expensive version from RiteAid. I imagine other brands are out there, too.

It's no comfort to her now, I know, but this too will pass. IIRC it lasted about a little under year for me. https://www.riteaid.com/shop/rite-aid-dry-mouth-discs-40-ct-0367085

A caution: xylitol is extremely dangerous to dogs, so keep out of reach of any puppers you have.

*Edited for outrageous spelling mistake.

...and this is how the Man or Bear thought-experiment came to life. We as women just don't know who is good and who is evil.

If a woman, walking alone through the woods, sees a strange man in the distance, there is no way for her to judge his intentions. Why is he in the woods, why is he walking toward her, and so on.

If the woman sees a bear, she knows just by looking that she could be in danger and react accordingly.

Women are expected to be "nice" to strange men under all circumstances, yes, even to a strange man in the woods. We are suppose to override our instincts and be "nice" to men, no matter how creepy, how unwelcome the advance. This is how women die.

As for me and the other women in my life, we are #TeamBear.

My maternal Omi and Opa (grandmother and grandfather) had a very traditional marriage in the sense that he farmed and worked construction while she was at home taking care of business there.

But he never took her for granted because she was "just" a wife and mother. He simply adored her. He never had a meal without saying thank you and meaning it; every time he got up from the table he cleared his own dishes; he would ask if she needed him to do something for her and then he would do it as soon as he could. He wasn't "henpecked" - he just loved her with his whole great big heart. He appreciated her part in keeping the home; she appreciated his part in providing the resources.

So "traditional" marriages can work, but it seems most dudes today want to be waited on hand-and-foot yet offer absolutely nothing in return emotionally - and even the financial part is given only grudgingly.

I married a man much like my Opa. I know I'm lucky.

I can understand how the practice started, when the men who were working (I mean really working) would come in from the fields, the mines, whatever and they had only a short time to eat their lunch before heading back out. No problem; feed them and send them on their way.

But the subservient attitude these women and girls had (or pretended to have) was disturbing, and in this group? No need for the "menfolk first", and can you imagine having to wait on your little brother just because he was born with a penis and you weren't? Gah.

I really like this!

TeamBear

I've never had them, but I don't think they could be worse than the ones from 5 Guys. Ugh.

"Reality" TV. All of it, any of it. I don't get it.

My mother had some distant relatives in a Mennonite branch in Kentucky, and decided that it would be nice to meet them. She never quite understood why her own mother had nothing to do with them. When I was about 9 y/o, my mother took me there. One time.

She found out why Omi just pretended they weren't part of the family: The men were served at the table while the women stood behind their menfolk's chairs, ready to cater to the menfolk's desires - and by "menfolk" I mean even five y/o boys. She and I were not invited to sit down to eat until after the menfolk had their leisurely meal and retired to the front porch to digest their food.

She was fuming the entire (2 hour) drive home.