People Are Revealing The Absolute Worst Decision They Ever Made

I drove down with my friend to drop off his car at a dealership in North Carolina for a trade-in. On the drive back home, we stopped at a Hooters in Virginia for dinner. The food was alright; we just got some wings. I got back home a day later after the 13-hour drive.

A few weeks later, on the train to work, I started to feel uneasy. I felt like I was going to barf and shit my pants at the same time, so I hopped off the train and ran to the nearest bathroom. I took the most epic shit of my life. The sounds my asshole made were unimaginable, and the facial expression of the person waiting to use the stall was memorable.

Fast forward a week later, and I woke up in my bed feeling like I just ate 100lbs of Taco Bell and needed to shit. I got into my mom's car, and she rushed me to the hospital. I was in immense amounts of pain. The nurse gave me morphine, and it felt good. My doctor needed to find out what was wrong with me, so I went under a CAT scan. The CAT scan showed something was wrong with my gallbladder.

An hour later, I went in for surgery and woke up 6 hours later needing to piss. I pissed into what looked like a water pitcher for 2 minutes straight. I filled up the pitcher and gave it to the nurse, feeling relieved. I stayed in the hospital for 14 days, shitting and pissing out my ass while looking pregnant/distended because I was filled up with air during surgery.

I couldn't eat food and took only antibiotics intravenously, so I lost close to 15 pounds during my stay in the hospital. The doctor told me I had salmonella in my gallbladder along with gallstones. The gallstones prevented the salmonella from leaving my system, causing the problem. He mentioned that during surgery, the gallbladder had full necrosis when it was removed. This was pretty scary because I could have died of sepsis if my gallbladder had burst. In summary, the worst permanent life decision I ever made was eating at Hooters.

Username: kingg2

I decided not to change my official address from my mom's house despite no longer really living there at all (pop in every so often for dinner, a movie, or just reading a book) while I lived with my dad.

Two members of Homeland Security arrived at my office one day to inform me that childhood pornography was detected being downloaded by my mom's IP address, and I am the prime suspect.

I was told I could not return to work (I work with kids) and I had to tell all my clients that I couldn't see them anymore. It broke my heart. They took my computer and phone, as well as those at my mother and father's houses, with no indication of how long before I get them back.

When executing the warrant, I was lying in bed reading, and within 10 seconds of hearing a pounding on the door had four men in riot gear in my hallway pointing guns at me. That memory has made it twice as hard to sleep as it already was as I irrationally await being arrested for something I not only didn't do and find abhorrent, but can't imagine anyone that had access to my mom's internet doing.

I can barely eat. I find little enjoyment in activities. I can't tell my friends what's going on due to a mix of shame and attorney advice. I feel like I'm living in a nightmarish parallel world where my real life is passing by without me.

People keep telling me not to worry, that being innocent means I have nothing to worry about. As if innocent people have never been convicted of crimes before.

I feel vulnerable as glass all day, terrified that no matter how things turn out, my career as a family therapist is over. All because I decided it was too much bother to officially change my address from my mother's.

Username: DaystarEld

Moving to Ontario was made way worse by all the Ontarians......I grew up seeing so much of Ontario on TV, thinking that it was the center of our government and its got the country's capital and all that. Basically I'm paying over twice the taxes I was paying before for nothing!

This province is full of garbage because no one can be bothered to pay enough people to empty city bins, I've never paid so much for public transportation and I shouldn't have to pay for an ambulance. Where are my taxes going if I have to pay for an ambulance and hospitals don't offer taxi vouchers?

The worst part is when people try to paint a picture of The Territories like WE'RE the uncivilized ones, we have cleaner cities, more affordable transportation, infrastructure and an economy, and we are looked down on like we are cavemen (and even that one caveman in Dawson is more civilized than most people down here).

Basically I left The Territories because of the drunks and crackheads but there's truthfully less of that in the territories seeing as how there's been four people killed in the park across from me in the three years I've been here.

Ontario just has more places to segregate their "undesirables" so they can look like they aren't messing up as much as they are. I feel like I'm in that village from Hot Fuzz like pretending they don't dump homeless and natives in a metaphorical hole of segregation.

Like, I'm white and I'm really annoyed by all the white people here acting so bothered by "all the foreigners" everywhere yet they are weirded out when I ask, "yeah, why are there so many white people on native land?"

"You can see natives on the reservations" so like they are animals in a zoo? Or are they the tourist attraction? I'm just wondering why there's so many old white men in our government and I have to search for natives in a Canadian government. I though first nation's people were the people, not these children of Europe.

The rest of the provinces aren't that bad, but Ontario seems to be the most entitled. I've been all over Canada and I'm just blown away by the ridiculousness of this one province. If you're not white and pretending everything isn't on fire you're an outcast. I'm leaving the moment I get a chance.

Username: notanotherkrazychik

Seeing a psychiatrist in 1993 for academic anxiety. I was put on 80 mg of Prozac (8x the recommended starting dose) and it put my brain into fight or flight mode for twenty years before I realized it blocks the reuptake of adrenaline as well as serotonin.

I dropped out of law school because I was so anxious I was barely functional. I scraped by as a freelance writer. I never knew the drugs could do this and blamed myself as an anxious loser. When I tried getting off after ten years my doctor didn’t taper me properly because she didn’t know what she was doing.

My brain was chemically dependent on it and the withdrawal symptoms were misdiagnosed as major depressive disorder which I have never have so she put me back on them. It agitated my brain so I went to a sleep clinic because of insomnia.

Instead of reducing the Prozac he added another drug which caused serotonin toxicity and almost killed me. This is malpractice but he dropped me as a patient to avoid me realizing it. I didn’t know I could sue until I had passed my province’s statue of limitations.

When I decided after two decades to try to get off the Prozac I ended up being hospitalized three times from withdrawal effects. The third time I was locked in a psych ward for a month, which was terrifying.

My brain couldn’t handle life without the drug and I developed a neurological side effect where if I were to lie down, my entire body would feel like it was trembling and became perpetually exhausted from lack of sleep.

My psychiatrist didn’t believe it was from the drug and even scheduled an MRI for a brain tumor but I passed. It took 28 months for my brain to heal from reducing the dose and I can finally sleep again. I haven’t had a job in five years because of the withdrawal effects but I can’t claim EI or disability because psychiatric drug withdrawal isn’t recognized as a condition so I’ve been supported by my parents and living off my savings.

I avoided Covid by barely leaving my apartment in the past 28 months. It’s cost me a career, friends, a family, and a steady income. Eventually I fired my doctor and got a new one who became addicted to Percocet after she broke her ankle and has been through withdrawal so she understands.

If you’ve read this far, I acknowledge that proper use of these drugs can change lives. But improper use can destroy them. I’ve been trapped in a psychological prison for two decades and watched my friends get jobs, careers, families, kids, travel, buy houses, etc., all the while I’ve been barely functional and spending what little money I’ve made on the very drug that was making me sick.

Prozac took an anxious 19-year-old with a bright future and turned him into single, broke, bitter 47-year-old who lives alone and is slowly tapering off a litany of drugs prescribed to get off the Prozac which include beta blockers, benzos, and antipsychotics.

Username: justintrudeau1974

Ok, to preface this, I like to think of myself as someone who is mentally strong. I've legitimately never felt anxiety of dread in my life even in the face of some of the most soul crushing events.

Then I tried 3g of shroom edibles. Hands down the worst experience of my life because I was at my in laws house to make it worse. I was taking a shower when the walls starts lightly pulsating, and the grout in between the tiles started turning red and looking like blood was oozing out.

Uhhh ok, maybe it doesn't get worse. So I get out of the shower and go get some water, maybe that'll help. I sit down and drink. When I blink my eyes it's basically like a rainbow flashing every time. I start sweating bullets and the world is really wavy.

Oh God. I decide maybe I should sleep through it but suddenly my nephew throws up. This triggers an immense amount of dread in me and I feel the need to throw up too, which makes my MIL think I didn't like her food. The lights also seem like they're flickering intensely like a horror movie. Fast forward and I'm dry heaving on the toilet and nothing is coming out.

At this point I urgently go to the bed and lie down and lie that I'm super tired and maybe I am having a heat stroke. I ask my wife to come to bed too because it's really late and we need to sleep. It's 7:30 PM on a Saturday. She comes to bed and asks if I'm ok, I crack and say I ate shrooms and I think I'm going to die. She calls me an idiot but holds my hand through it. Every time I'm blinking the layout of the room changes rapidly and the lights are leaving intense psychedelic trails.

Out of nowhere I start having a FULL BLOWN panic attack and telling my wife I think i might die. I'm feeling like my brain is dissolving. This is amplified a hundred fold because I've never felt panic or anxiety in my life, my dad always raised me to be "strong" but at this point my brain felt like mush. I start texting my best friend for help but my fingers are skeletal and my keyboard is alien text. I drop my phone and freak out further while deathgripping my wife's hands.

My wife tells me I'll be ok and I won't die, just remain calm and she scratches my head and holds a bowl in case I throw up. I literally spend the next 3 hours holding her like a teddy bear saying "I love you, you're irreplaceable" while feeling like I might die of legitimate brain death come morning.

To describe it, my brain felt like it was in the backrooms and I was mentally hanging on the edge of a cliff with my sanity fragmenting. I was hearing cars driving all around me and legitimately felt terrified, anxious, and panicked. After 3 hours of holding my wife, I call my friend, he Whatsapp video chats with me to assure me I'm ok. The effects started to wear off and I had a bit of a laugh about it.

Since then, I've completely stopped using anything (Even alcohol) regardless if its legal or not. I felt anxiety, panic, and fear, and never want to feel it again. My one experience with shrooms legitimately terrified me.

Username: YOLO_TOASTER420

I stuck my dick in crazy, which partially ruined my life. Hmm.. Story time.. Let's start with starting a relationship with a person and having a child with them 3 months into it.

Helped her tremendously with depression issues stemming from being sheltered and also her parents going through a nasty divorce. She walked in on her father committing adultery in her bedroom.

Her mother wanted her daughter (my son's mother) to testify in the coming divorce hearings and saw how this awful request sat with my ex. It was devastating. Her mother adored me until I defended her daughter and said she cannot testify. That's a sure way to fuck her head up even further...

After that, I was the most hated person in the social circles her mother belonged to. My ex turned on me too, and during the pregnancy, lied about which hospital she was giving birth in, I begged to be there. I begged to come to all prenatal appointments, sonograms... Etc

So she gave birth. . I find out she checked in under Jane Doe so I couldn't even find which hospital she was at.. I was devastated that she took that away from me. I swear, if I did something to warrant such treatment, I would understand.. I was nothing less than a gentlemen and I was so nice to her.

I never cursed at her, never cheated, never raised my voice, never done any dickish shit to her.. I was the ideal family man and husband material. Friends say nice guys finish last.

Any who, we got back together. I have never been happier in life. We were a family! I forgave her and her mother. She blamed the hormones.
I am an awesome dad!!

Fast forward another year, and my ex wanted to come off her effexor and other meds without doctor's consent... We had an argument about infidelty and I picked her phone up. She fought me so hard to get the phone out my hands. Something so devestating was on that phone in which I was not suppose to see.

She punched me, she pushed and punched and even jumped on my back. I fall down backwards and landed on her. I finally gave up and dropped the phone next to me. I said fuck this. I feel blood running down my mouth .(from my nose) and my eye is tingling

I leave and as I was driving, I was pulled over by police. They walked towards my vehicle guns drawn and then asked me the usual questions about weapons... Etc. The officer then said they received a call about a stolen phone. I said I do not have a phone. They asked to search my car for this phone. I said sure. Then I told the cop I was assaulted and told him to look at my face.

He sees me holding my nose with a bloody napkin and my left eye is swollen. He then asks me to place my hands behind my back, get searched And arrested for assault. Like WTF? She had one injury, it was her pinky finger, a little bruise from her hitting me in my face.

My child taken from me, child support high as 10 kids. I was erroneously and shamefully convicted in a circus court. Judge okayed her to move my child out of state.. So now, I have an assault conviction on my otherwise clean criminal record.

The judges in that jurisdiction did a major disservice and should be forced out. They even placed "appeal bonds" on my cases so that I could not appeal without throwing $50k to 100k cash to the courts.

Also the state's prosecutor kept delaying my trial because they kept losing paperwork. The original charges were dropped at the 4th visit to the court, and then I was re-arrested and re-charged and I had a shitty public defender.

I was also taking care of a terminally ill parent in the middle of this.. Now, I am assumed to be violent from the conviction due to her actions. Her motive for the false allegations was to have favorable bias in court for custody.

I'm am unemployable for the forseeable future. I am currently getting my degree in engineering . Oh.. Since child support is garnished, I don't make enough for standard living expenses...
My reward? I get to sleep in my vehicle. At least I have a roof over my head!

I do not ever regret having fathered my son.. I love my son so much. Its just I'm fighting my way INTO his life. All because this bitch played the system well..

Username: lolyer1

Was a line cook many many years ago and the summer resort place I worked at housed a bunch of us in a beach house. We raced home on bikes all the time after work (2am) and the last person there cooked dinner for all of us.

Honestly there's nothing you want to do less after a 16-hour shift in a kitchen than cook another full meal. One night I had a mountain bike, they all had road bikes and had convinced me to carry their crap home since they 'forgot' their backpacks. So packed all in mine and bolted. The pack was so heavy I had to look down instead of at the road.

Idiot. 2 eons-long seconds later a drunk driver in a hatchback cut me off. I say eons long because those of you that have been in near death situations may have experienced time slowing. It's odd, but real: I consciously had time to think about how I was going to hit the car.

Chin tucked, shoulders locked, eyes closed. Doc said it saved my life. Last thing I saw was my speedo: 25mph. They were dead stopped. I smashed through the back window, went through the front windshield, and somehow never un clipped from the pedals which dragged me back over all the broken glass out the back again.

It bent the forks backward on the bike and ripped the handlebars off. I nicked my carotid, got several hundred stitches, and tore the SI joint in my hip which has never repaired leading to multiple back surgeries.

My health insurance had expired 2 weeks prior so I refused the medical helicopter while spurting blood all over the street. Shock is a powerful thing! That likely would have fixed me up perfectly. I went in ambulance but back at work 3 days later (remember: idiot.)

Driver never charged. Small town, I was not local, they were. Related to someone, etc. Scars are great conversation pieces though, and luckily I didn't cut my face. But my bicep looks like a shark bite, which I may or may not have told a few ladies it was as a younger man. :)

Username: hiscapness

Played basketball through high school and had started talking to a few colleges with about half of my high school varsity team about scholarships the week before...that weekend we were out of town with the family at a reunion and several of my cousins wanted to play a pick up game outside...it was raining and in the back of my head I told myself "Just sit out and watch" but being a teenager, I wanted to be the king of the court so i played.

We played for a while, and right as we were going to head back to eat, I slipped under the basket getting a rebound and in the process, pulled my cousin down on top of me...my knee snapped back from falling on it weird, which would have probably just been a bad hyper-extension and conditioned away, but my cousin fell full force on it as i fell down and it bend in the opposite direction of normal (think RGIII, maybe a bit worse).

It tore all kinds of stuff, and actually caused a fracture on my shin...I remember looking down and my knee was still recessed in the wrong direction slightly and dangling a bit to the side (so awkward to see with your own eyes)...the pain was so much that i passed out.

Thankfully my mom had good health insurance, had a few surgeries but it never healed back just right, even after conditioning it pretty intensely, it just never felt as strong. Thankfully it didn't cause me any permanent movement damage and i can walk and run just fine...but even now, over 15 years later, I still get pains in that knee when it rains, and when I've tried to push it (playing softball or basketball), it feels scary. Maybe just a mental thing, but obviously I never went on to the next level of basketball which sucked.

Username: MonkeyManJohannon

I use to go roller skating with my best friend, at the time. I regret going the last time we went. We were sitting near the exit/entrance waiting for her friend to come in. It only costs a dollar to get a pair of skates and skate all day.

This day it wasn't as packed. We waited for a while and he eventually came in. My best friend got so excited, she pulled me up off the cushion so fast I fell. I thought I sprained or twisted my ankle. I even roller-skated around a few times until the pain was too unbearable.

I asked my best friend if we could leave, but she didn't want to. I waited until she was ready to leave. I went back to her house where I walked upstairs and walked around her house. I went back home the next day.

It was a Sunday. I had school on Monday. I tried getting some sleep and I couldn't. My ankles hurt so bad. My mom took me to the ER close by where we waited until 1 am. I got X-rays and had to have a cast put on. I had a ligament or something pull so hard on my ankle bone that it was barely hanging on. It was only attached by a string. Easily breakable.

I was supposed to wear a cast for 2 weeks but I needed it on longer so 2 more weeks. I wore a boot for what was supposed to be 2 weeks but turned out to be 4 weeks in total. I went from October to the beginning of January not able to walk properly.

Now I have to occasionally crack my ankle (by pulling my foot back until I hear a pop or several cracks) in order to walk properly. If I don't then it will become stiff and hard to move. The worst decision was going. I could have stayed home playing games or something.

Username: No_Chance333

Eating a burger from McDonald's. When I was 3, my family brought home McDonald's for us to eat, and they bought me a hamburger. It's already not a good idea to feed a small child fast food, but then my dad added in some more things inside of it so I can "feel fuller."

That night, I threw up violently. It was so bad that vomit was coming out of my nose, my throat burned, and I was stuck in the bathroom all night. It was the worst experience of my life.

Since then, I've been living with a constant emetophobia (fear of vomiting) and that has caused me to have high levels of anxiety. Growing up, I would always have panic attacks after eating food and I wouldn't sleep at night because I was constantly scared I was going to throw up. In grade school, teachers didn't know how to deal with me because I would just be crying all day.

In more recent years, I began to starve myself to prevent throwing up, which then got to the point where I became anorexic. That caused me to go down a spiral of depression and self harming.

3 psychologists later (4, since I'm going to another one on Monday), my anxiety is a lot more controlled and I've tried my best to have healthy eating habits. I still have restless nights and I have panic attacks every so often, but I've learned how to control myself.

It's tough to live in constant fear of something so harmless, but I've began to learn that it's nothing to be afraid of, and that there's so much worse out there. I honestly can't see myself getting over this anxiety and fear, but I have to push through and keep going.
Thanks for reading.

Username: animachan

Smoking marijuana, as much as I love it (and always will), has actually made me a semi-believer in the gateway drug theory. Not that smoking weed causes everyone to go shoot heroin or smoke crack, but it definitely introduces you to people who do harder drugs. If you're an easily influenced person, it's easy to get caught up in the illusion of greatness that is getting high.

Weed is not a bad drug, believe me. It's the stupid decisions you make when you're high that are bad. It all began with my first joint. I moved on very quickly to smoking cigarettes and drinking because I figured, "If weed is illegal and it's this good, the legal ones must be good too!" From there, I ended up getting into cocaine.

Cocaine, for anyone who hasn't tried it before, is a two-faced bitch. It is one of the greatest highs known to man, but it is the most addictive. One line, and I was hooked. I quickly went from one line a week to one line a day, then from that to five lines a day, then ten, until eventually, I was sniffing an 8-ball a day. At that point, cocaine stopped being the drug it used to be. The high was different, shorter, and less satisfying.

From there, I moved into prescription opiates and Adderall (medicine for ADHD if you don't know). That began my slow spiral into hell. I wouldn't even do any other drugs.

My life literally began to revolve around cocaine, speed, and my absolute favorite: OxyContin. OxyContin is what made me into the horrible person I turned out to be in my late teens. I couldn't go more than an hour or so without crushing another and snorting it. The drugs literally consumed my life.

Eventually, I overdosed and ended up in a hospital. I had been unconscious for three days. The doctors didn't think I was going to survive; I had taken enough OxyContin and heroin to kill a horse, according to them. That was the moment I realized I had to fix my life and get back on track. I managed to get clean, with the exception of weed and the occasional hallucinogenic mushroom, which I don't think I could ever stop. But let's face it, with some self-control, it won't hurt me.

The problem here is, addiction NEVER leaves you. Once you're an addict, you're always an addict. I still have cravings for OxyContin, cocaine, heroin, speed, basically all the drugs I used to do. It still haunts me to this day, and it's been five years now.

Please kids, for your own sake, no matter how appealing it sounds, don't do drugs. They just aren't worth it. Drugs ruined my life, but I got off them. The addiction stays forever.

Username: Lapyd

I was eighteen years old and a senior in high school. I had been stuck in a backwards christian school since age 3 and I was already predestined to attend four years of their college. I had secretly been saving up money since my 17th birthday and flew to England to spend spring break with the girl I had been in a long distance relationship with for almost two years.

I left alone without my parents' knowledge and was absolutely terrified of travelling internationally. When I arrived, her parents took me in like their own family and I had by far the single most wonderful week of my life. There was no awkwardness or anything,

I felt like I was really at home for the first time in my life after basically growing up inside of a church. I told them about my life, and they offered me the opportunity to stay with them for a year while I figured out a way to get on my feet there, but I declined because I couldn't stay there without saying goodbye to my family -- and I thought I would be going to college there just a few months down the road.

Flash forward to late May: I had my final exams going on when I suddenly got very, very sick. My body started reacting to a medication I was taking and I could not leave the house for a few weeks due to extreme photosensativity, constant skin rashes covering 50-75% of my body, and severe pain all over.

I had to miss most of my exams and retake them later, which was fine with me. I did great on my exams, absolutely fantastic! Except for one. Bible. For thirteen years of my life, I studied a book that I didn't even believe a single word of once I was old enough to realize it.

Here's the catch, my score on the exam would have been a ninety four, but the essay was something along the lines of "why abortion is wrong." Well, I did not agree with the prompt, so I wrote two pages about why I thought it was justified for woman to have the right to choose, and they threw out my exam and scored it as a zero when it was worth 30% of my grade, causing me to fail the class.

Because of this, my GPA was not high enough to be accepted into any of the colleges I applied to in England, so I was stuck at Liberty University. I then made a series of terrible decisions causing me to fail my first year there, I just could not bring myself to study there. I simply couldn't do it, it was against everything I believed and I could not spend hours a week studying their doctrine.

I wish I did now that I had to tell the person I spent 3 years talking to for hours a day that I would never be able to see her again. I could not afford plane tickets anymore, real life kicked in. I would elaborate on the unbelievable story of her and I, but this is just a single comment and I'm planning to write a book about it soon.

Username: plaidfigure

This is going to get buried, but it is the one thing that has ruined my life. Ignoring my obvious signs of mental illness because of friends, family and my own ignorance.

Basically, I was never diagnosed with any kind of illness until I was 22, and doing terrible in college. I'm not really sure when it started, or how it all went so wrong. I do remember my OCD habits starting when I was around 13. Mostly just constant list-making, freezing to repeat things in my head, and the terrible being "stuck" moments.

What's terrible is I studied molecular biology in college, and I loved research. However, I think the jump from being the guy who got straight A's without trying to the university level is what triggered the sudden changes. Sure there were signs all along the way.

Doing poorly in classes that required lots of busywork(I'd ace tests, but rarely turn in homework). By my senior year of high school I was getting mostly B's, but I still got into my college of choice thanks to a 35 on the ACT and extracurricular activities.

By my sophmore year of college my ADHD was destroying me, my anxiety was terrible, and my OCD was ruining my life. It wasn't until a friend pointed out I may have a mental illness. Roommate later confirmed I had a few odd tendencies, and it never even occurred to me until that point. Brought it up with my parents, who culturally were not able to accept mental illness and so I ignored it again. Later talked to some friends about it, and most would say the same. ADHD isn't real, mental illness is bs, depression is dumb...

Finally, saw a school psychologist, and was finally getting help. She quits to get another job. Couple months later, start seeing a university psychiatrist. She suggests the usual fluoxetine to treat depression/anxiety. Ups my doses. Don't get better. Suggest to her I might have more than just anxiety/ocd. She doesn't listen, prescribes extreme anti-psychotics.

Eventually stop seeing her, get a full neuro-psychological examination(the real deal to get diagnosed with a mental illness by dsm standards). 14 hours of testing later, confirmed to have intelligence in top 5% of population, a working memory near 1%, and a processing speed below average for most functioning adults.

Doctor basically confirms that I have severe ADHD that has gone untreated my entire life, due to me being too smart. No one noticed the kid in elementary school getting straight A's not paying attention, because they just assumed you were paying attention.

My independent study programs gave me the breaks I needed so I didn't have outbursts like "dumber" students. My ADHD developed OCD as a compensation method to cope with my rapidly changing thoughts.

My memory aided in this. I literally try to remember everything that happens to me in a day, every event, conversation, little tiny thing, and If I forget something it breaks me down. However, by the time I got to college, it was too much to handle.

The added stressors of being independent, and having to focus myself was too much. Several other "events" occurred such as my friend from high school hanging herself(I was too distracted by my own problems to notice and help her). Severe depression/anxiety followed. My grades plummeted.

I'd like to say that everything got better, but I'd be lying. I dropped out of college. My GPA in my major was too low, and I was screwed beyond belief. I have over 90,000 in student loans. No degree. Live with my parents.

I've already gone through the whole "this is the end" phase, and now I'm just trying to pick up the pieces. I have a decent job, and mentally I'm trying to get better. Some days are good, and some days I just want to curl into a ball. All I can do is move forward.

Username: Stick2U

My career. Growing up, I had three main loves: art (painting and some sculpting), music (I was Grade 6 pianist at 13 and started classical guitar) and computing. I was your perfect, spotty, overweight teen virgin whose homework you always wanted to copy.

When it came to A-Level time, I decided that whatever I do in life, it has to be artistic/musical. I don't want to ever work behind a computer screen (you can skip to the end now!). However, when I told my Mom I wanted to do Music, Art and Maths A-Levels, she kinda flipped. In the end, I did Physics, Maths and Computer Science. I don't regret switching, I left with good grades.

Cycle forward, I was adamant I wanted to go to work to fund the dream - promote my band more (we were doing very well at that point, were signed to a label), get the funds together to go for more sound engineering. At the time, special effects noises were my big buzz. I would take some old film scenes and redo the entire soundtrack, using the few mics and bits of editing hardware to do it.

Again, when my Mom found out the news, she flipped major! There was a scene in my Mom's kitchen where my brother and one of his mates basically told me if I didn't go to Uni, I'd be a nothing! I still remember that scene. They wanted me to go major in Computer Science and go earn megabucks. I mean, I loved computing, I loved programming them, when I was 20 I was already programming Motorola 68k assembler and doing it pretty good akshully!

Finally, I relented, but if I was going to uni, I was doing it my way! I majored in Music Technology. Loved the course, saw it as furthering my dream of becoming a recording engineer.

However, one thing I never thought would happen at the beginning of my course was that, by the time I would graduate, the average 15 year old would be able to afford the equivalent of an entire recording studio for under £750! 4 channel USB interfaces were all the norm, there was floods of cheap Chinese-made mics that worked well; the gear I had amassed and must have spent £1000s on could now be made redundant for far less.

Suddenly, every idiot with a rich Daddy was a recording engineer/producer. Studios around me were closing and the prospect of a job was scarce. As it happens, I found myself on an IT Helpdesk after graduation. I rotted in support for ten miserable frustrating years.

I only really broke out by flat out lying my ass off on my CV. So, sure, I don't do support anymore, but if I'm honest, I still hate working in that field. I sometimes see other types, say, marketers who are busy putting the final details to some flyer or magazine advert and thinking "Man, I could do a far better job than that! I already do for my band!"

So yeah... the one industry I said I never ever ever ever wanted to work in no matter what is the one industry I'm trapped in forever! It's actually at the point that if I didn't need a computer for music creation or my present course, I wouldn't have one even in the house!

Since I had to start in the computing career, I've not so much as picked up a paintbrush and last time I tried to draw something, the person who saw it asked me "if my kid drew that"... In truth, I suck hairy apes at art now.

I've kept playing guitar, but my pianist skills have well and truly died - that I am the most miffed about! Keeping up in the IT game takes up so much of your extra-curricular time, getting professional certs for this that and the other. No UK employers pay you to go take career-furthering quals, that's all on you!

Finally, to further the charade of being slightly more capable than your average support monkey in this terrible career path, most prospective employers turn their noses up at my Music Technology degree. If it's not computer science, they're not interested. So I'm not even earning that great money at it as I have to approach employers who are either not looking for degree caliber types or don't care what the major is.

So, what am I doing to resolve that problem? Doing a second distance-learning degree in computer science - self funded self studied! I have to say... there are times... there really really are times...

Username: jon6

My parents didn't support me going to college and literally gave me nothing, even kicking me out because they found my acceptance letters. I was so determined to go to school, I did anyway. Of course, it had to be a four year school because only *losers* went to community college.

I couldn't qualify for most private loans because I had no co-signer, so I did the amazing thing of getting credit cards! Because for some reason, before the crash, making barely above minimum wage I was given 15k straight up in credit.

So I did the wise thing of putting my education ON A CREDIT CARD. I presumed I would get full-time work and go to class in the evening. Nope. I worked 2 (at one point 3) part time jobs to just scrape by. Because I needed credit to afford food, housing, clothing, basic necessities, etc. and in PA you are not allowed to qualify for any welfare if you are a student. Fantastic.

I ended up failing out my second semester because I was working so much that I was just too exhausted to do academic work. So I pulled out and after a summer of soul-searching, I enrolled in community college. It helped that my friend decided to go there too and we took classes together to help me stay on track. It was affordable (NO private loans needed! and I had extra leftover to help me cover books!) and I had the BEST professors I've ever had. A couple years later I transferred back to the original university and finished my BA in Political Science, with some graduate coursework in education.

That stupid excess of credit and stubbornness led to my still painful issues with credit. I was unemployed a couple years ago for the summer and I couldn't make full payments. Citi refused to work with me on anything that was manageable. (I told them what my unemployment check was, they wanted double, pretty sure electricity and heat come first assholes.)

The accounts were closed on me and I'm sure my credit is destroyed. I can't settle because I just don't have a few thousand dollars laying around. I tried to even get payday loans to settle, but they're illegal here and an absolute nightmare from what I've read.

I'm at a loss and stress out every time the phone rings. I wish someone supported me like my high school counselors in going to community college right away because they knew what my finances were like and that I was supporting myself.

**Kids, it's okay to go to community college. I know your counselors are pushing and pushing for you to apply to four year universities. It's cheaper and professors want to teach because they aren't obsessed with publishing or having sexual relationships with their graduate students.

You're smarter for not getting into debt so young because it WILL ruin your life and nothing is guaranteed- no job, no income- except that debt will haunt you.** I suffer from major anxiety issues and suicidal issues when another collector calls. I hope someday this will all be rectified and I can be at peace.

Username: birdsofterrordise

I'm late to the game on this thread, but aside from penis-cutter I think I may win. My debacle took place over the course of about 12 months. I did well in school, skipped grades, etc. I left high school after 2 years to attend a local state college.

Technically I wasn't enrolled fully at the college, and the courses I took counted for both high school & college credit. So for what would have been my junior year of high school I attended college full time. After that I received my high school diploma.

The problem? I didn't get into any ivy league school. I couldn't figure out why until I saw my transcript my high-school sent out. Their software at the time didn't know how to process me having college courses on my transcript, so it stuck remedial courses into the blanks and gave me F's on all of them.

So if that wasn't bad enough, here's where it goes off the tracks: I have to decide what to do. I could have gone to the community college for another year, but wasn't sure if the credits would transfer somewhere after. So I went back to the high school. For a post-grad year. Seriously. As if that wasn't bad enough, here comes my worst decision ever:

This time around I had a full transcript, everything looked great on it. I get into every school I apply to. I had cooled on the idea of going ivy league; coming from a middle class background the environment actually seemed somewhat toxic to me. In retrospect that was probably true.

So the schools I did apply to, as I said I got into. Including Clark. Which offered me a full 165K scholarship for biochemistry. The discipline I had always wanted to be in. I would go to Clark, for free. I was the inaugural "Traina Scholar" or something like that.

The only problem? I turned it down to go to Holy Cross which I thought had a slightly better reputation, and a nicer looking campus. I turned down a free undergraduate education in biochemistry to go somewhere else. Somewhere that was just as bougie as an Ivy League school.

They basically ran me out of HC on a rail. So in the end I didn't get a degree from Holy Cross, and I have about 40K debt from going there. Oh, and after all that I was hit by a massive depression and flamed out of biochem at HC, and ended up in psychology.

When I could have gotten a free education..in biochemistry...which I love...and can probably not go back into because I had to keep going with psychology on account of all the debt I had towards getting the degree in it. Fuck me.

Username: AccipiterQ

I started a business 5 years ago when I was very very young with somebody who was a bad choice to go into business with and I kind of knew it at the time which was the worst thing. I couldn't see the numbers adding up but my young self just said 'We'll make it work!'

We did better than expected at first, but a combination of poor economy, poor planning (due to being 22 and inexperienced as fuck) and my business partner who developed a drug addiction (mainly this) the business failed.

When you don't have a job, owe your landlord 15 years rent (another massive mistake of the inexperienced), large gas, electric, phone and sub contractor bills, the bank and the tax man worth about £12k (not including landlords rent which came to £83k) the world feels like its closing in on you pretty quickly. My BP buried his head in the sand and didn't resurface for 6 months so it was pretty much on me to sort the whole mess out / pay it off to avoid bankruptcy.

The whole thing was a nightmare, when I look back I was in a dark dark place, I felt like I had ruined my entire future and any hope of a decent life. I didn't sleep, or feel like eating, I cried often, I didn't want to be seen in public because of the failure, I basically went into my shell socially.

After a few weeks of moping I just threw myself into negotiating deals with debtors (and managed to get quite a bit written off amazingly), started selling the small assets we did have. I went to the wire on everything, getting my local politicians involved if I perceived a slight problem with a service to try and get off paying, emailing MD's or CEO's of large companies directly, seeking advice and in some cases this included working out that my BP's name was on this or that account so it doesn't affect me.

I even fucked over my business partner (who as a drug addict was directly responsible for the business failure and who I had to hide money from) by telling him that the bank was going to write off the debt for us if he can come up with half the settlement figure (£2000).

He came up with the £1000, but the bank had only agreed to settle my part of the debt and he still owed another £4000. I sold the coffee maker his parents bought to pay off any debts that had my name on. In short, I was completely ruthless.

I was 100% debt free within 2 years but with a very low paying job with no satisfaction. That 2 years was the lowest part of my life and it has scarred me, I was pretty much completely depressed.

3 years later I got a better job and since another 2 years have passed I am extremely successful in what I do and earn a lot of money by most standards. i don't have a blemish against my name, but I still feel sick, physically sick every time I am reminded of that time period in my life and still bare the scars so to speak / the shame. My ex BP still owes money and is fucked financially over it. But I survived and have learned more than any college or university course.

Username: [deleted]

I decided as a teenager that since I was such a rebel and was going to be an artist, I didn't need to bother with "irrelevant" subjects like math. The art school I wanted to go to only required a 2.0 GPA and no SAT score, so I basically blew off high school, doing the bare minimum required to graduate and get into art school.

Truth was, there were other things I really wanted to do--such as become a veterinarian--but I once I started having trouble with math in high school I just shut down, gave up, and took the easiest path open to me. I dropped out of art school two years in after realizing what a complete waste of time money it was, and spent the next decade in low-paying, dead-end jobs.

Even as a young adult, with access to still-cheap (as in $5/credit cheap) night classes at a community college, I didn't do anything to fix the mess I'd made for myself in high school. I kept avoiding math, making excuses about how I didn't get it, and that I just sucked at it.

I took all kinds of non-math science courses, and loved them, but without math I couldn't study them any further. So while I felt bad that I wouldn't ever get to go to vet school, I told myself those were the breaks. When I went back to college years later to finish up a BA (in history), I still took the bare minimum required math, half-assed it, and blamed my low grade on the fact I was bad at it. Truth was, I just didn't try very hard.

I'm 46 now, and in the last few years I've finally accepted the fact that if I wanted to do well in math, I could. There's tutoring, there's a shitton of resources available, I'm done with bullshit excuses, and it's totally possible for me to go back to school, conquer math, finally take all the pre-vet science courses I'd need, and eventually get into vet school. It really could happen.

Problem is, if I started today and managed to get every course I needed as I needed it, and got into vet school on the first try, I'd be 55 or 56 years old and at least $300,000 in debt by the time I got my DVM. And that's just not a good financial-planning move at all, given that vets don't make anywhere near what MDs do. So no vet school for me. And even if I opted to become a vet tech, I'd still be over 50 and ass-deep in debt by the time I was done.

So I volunteer for the humane society, fostering cats with medical problems, and I love doing it. But if I could go back and do everything all over again? I'd do whatever it took to get over my problems with math. Because no matter how irrelevant math may seem to your day-to-day experience when you're a teenager, it's the biggest factor in determining what you'll be able to major in in college and ultimately do for a living.

Once you've written off math, there go all your chances at in-demand, well-paying work in the sciences, engineering, technology, and medicine/nursing (including vet med). None of the adults around me ever pushed this point very hard, if at all, but if I could go back 30+ years and beat some sense into my younger self on one issue, math would be the one.

Username: [deleted]

Not realizing my parents did nothing but use me. When I was 14, my parents decided that a motorcycle and partying was worth more than being a parent. At 16 I had moved out after the constant verbal abuse because their life was ruined after they got into a motorcycle accident after drinking.

18 came along, I graduated with honors and was about to go to college until I made the mistake of allowing my mom to do my FASFA. I'm almost certain she screwed it up on purpose. I received no funding and had to find a job. All the mean while they lost our home and had to move into the projects.

Me, trying to be a good child, moved back into my parents to help them out. I paid for just about everything, yet my parents still had "no money" Found out beer, hard liquor, and weed was more important than them helping themselves so once again, I moved out.

My dad received his disability pay when I was 19/20 and instead of properly using the money, they bought some POS blazer and what was once a trailer used for meth in the middle of fucking no where. Blazer broke down and me trying to be the nice kid, decided I was going to help them out by running them around, because you know, I didn't work a full time job or anything. Well I made the mistake of "borrowing" a grand from them when they got their disability back pay. Big mistake. They demanding I repay them and buy them a new vehicle.

At that point, I should have cut ties. They harassed me night and day until I finally threatened to never speak to them again. A year goes by and I think we've started to mend things, they bring up this money issue. I've tried my best to separate myself from them but it's hard. I'm not 23,engaged and trying to me on with my life but the constant "we need attention" crap is getting to much.

They both have a lot of health issues and use that against me. I've started standing up for myself and telling them no more often than not. If I had the choice I would have cut ties years ago. They were never worth the stress or fight as they have never even tried to change.

Username: techi17x

Being friends with sketchy people. I was on a trip to China with some classmates and a few teachers back in middle school. This one boy who was particularly creepy offered me and a 7th grader some Pepsi. We gladly drank it, after all we were dehydrated from the welching heat in Suzhou.

We both quickly downed our sodas only to look over at the sketchy kid cracking up. He had supposedly put a large dose of ecstasy in our drinks. We both chased him down the hallway we were currently lounging in but he got to our room before we could catch him and beat his ass.

He then made the dick move of locking us in the hallway as we started getting fucked up. By then all the other kids were working their way back to our rooms and noticed us writhing on the floor like retards. One of the whiney bitches started crying and ran around screaming "Sam's high Sam's high!" Up and down the hallways as other guests were rudely woken by her.

Fast forward an hour later and I'm lying in a pool of my own sweat while the teachers are screaming at me saying how fucked I am. I ended up being sent home two weeks early, didn't even get a refund for my 1000's of dollars I saved for this trip, my parents were ready to kill me and as soon as we got home my dad nearly beat me to death, my mother could never look at me the same thinking I was some fucked up druggy. My favorite teacher hates my guts and thinks I am a washed out loser.

Word gets out in school that I'm so emo stoner kid and everyone's scared of me now, I fall into depression because I barely have any friends and I nearly kill my self until we finally move to a new city. Two years of my life were shit because of some asshole thinking it would be funny to drug some kid.

My mom and dad still see me differently even though I've explained to them many times what happened. My sister, who was 18 at the time, never talks to me any because of it, basically he fucked over my perfectly fine life for a quick laugh.

Username: [deleted]

Passing down a chance to attend Columbia University. I was a mediocre student in high school through junior year, but for some reason, I had three teachers who thought very highly of me. The chairman of the language department offered me a spot on an honors exchange program, for which my grades did not qualify me, that would've allowed me to spend my senior year studying in Japan.

I chickened out and declined because learning Japanese seemed too intimidating and I was afraid that I'd be a colossal failure in Japan. As a huge lover of Japanese culture, I'm kicking myself for it now.

The absolute worst mistake, though, was not taking another teacher's offer. My English teacher told me that he had a good friend in the admissions department at Columbia and he'd talk to him about me and could get me in if I applied and gave a good interview. I knew my family couldn't afford the tuition and I was terrified of graduating with such massive student loan debt, plus worried that his faith in me was misguided and I'd flunk out and disappoint everyone, so I declined.

Looking back, I should have accepted and moved heaven and earth to pay the tuition and fuck the debt. Being an Ivy League graduate would've opened many doors to me and my life would no doubt been much better. Instead, I went to a small liberal arts college, dropped out after my sophomore year because I couldn't afford the tuition and never went back to school.

I've had to work under some incredibly stupid and incompetent people who had more advancement opportunities because they had college degrees and often saw internal job postings for positions that I was highly qualified for, but was not eligible to apply because a bachelors degree was required.

So, my advice to any young kids out there is **never turn down an opportunity, ever. It's better to try and fail than to have never tried at all.**

Username: kingofthedesert

Going to get smokes for a couple friends in College. Back in 1988 I was a sophomore at small upstate NY college. I was back early that year as an orientation guide. Ran into a bud from my hometown that night (he was gonna be a freshman, no idea wtf he was doing there yet). H

e had 2 girls with him, and a case of beer. We went to my apartment, drank it all and some more, and they needed smokes. I don't smoke. We decide to walk ONE HALF MILE to the mini mart. Now, this is a TINY college town, one stoplight. We start walking and just then it starts raining.

The girls see my car - 1977 Red Trans Am. "Ohhh is that your car? Lets take that!". I remember looking down at my keys thinking "Nope, shouldnt do that". But I did. Start the car, vrrroom, peel out, tear off toward the mini mart. Doing probably 50 in a 30, and RIGHT PAST THE VILLAGE COP.

I kept going to the mini mart, where I was met by the OTHER cop car, and arrested by all 4 Alfred, NY cops. I later had the distinction of being the first driving while under alcohol conviction in that village.
It has followed and affected me numerous times since. It's even cost me jobs.

I lost my license for a year, had to sell the car, went into the "risk pool" for insurance for 7 years. When I could finally afford another car basic, no frills, no collision, insurance cost me $3500 a year in 1991, my car cost $3000.

Most recently, I'm now 40 freaking five, and I wanted to go to Canada with my wife and kids this summer. Cant get into the country with a DWI. Have to apply to the freaking magistrate and prove that Im "rehabilitated". Will cost $250-500, several months, and no guarantees.
I have an otherwise totally clean record.

Username: nysflyboy

Smoked spice for a very long time. For a while, all I did was smoke and work, all my money would go towards spice, gas, and the occasional fast food. I did this for nearly 3 months, although I still try to fool myself it and "believe" didn't damage me, but deep down inside I know it did.

I am insanely paranoid, I don't show it, or at least I don't believe I do. Everyday my thoughts force me to believe that someones out to get me, it affects everything I do, from the decisions I make at home to my social life.

I try not to talk to anybody that I don't know or trust, its horrible, because even though I may seem like I have it under control deep down I just want to cry and get rid of such thoughts. Girls have tried to talk to me, get to know me, but I cant even have a stable relationship because of how paranoid I am.

Thoughts about how everyone is against me invade my head, so much that it is part of my life, I can't cross out the possibility I might get killed any minute by that guy across the street that looked at me weird or that my manager might just fire me because I didn't throw out the thrash.

From little things to big things, the light is on but won't turn off. My family knows nothing of it because they won't underatand and ive dissapointed them enough. I just want to lie in bed all day and cry until I cease to exist. I would have never smoked it if this was the price.

Because of my legal, addictive, pleasure abuse I am the saddest and loneliest I have ever been. Although suicide is never the answer, if there was a way to restart after death, I wouldn't hesitate. I try live day by day, continue onto my goal of becoming a teacher, I just hope I will make it.

Username: throwaway1289000

Doing a job without the proper safety equipment. I worked on helicopters in the Army. In the belly of an Apache is a combination fuel tank and ammo magazine. When empty it weighs 327lbs. There is a service cart specifically designed to remove and install it, but in a pinch 4 guys can muscle it up or down.

My crew was tasked with removing it because of an unspecified fault. Our service cart was broken, so we had to do it by hand. We could have went and borrowed a cart from another unit, but leadership felt that was a waste of time; by the time we went through the rigamarole to get it, we could be finished already by doing it the old-fashioned way.

I wasn't happy about it, because doing it by hand is very awkward as you have very little leverage or support, but ultimately not a big deal, we had done it plenty of times. Got to make mission, right? One person typically lays on their back and leg presses it up, so the other guys can remove the bolts; I volunteered to be the leg man.

We checked the fuel gauge to make sure it was empty, then I got under it and pressed it up... with much more difficulty than I expected. But it has a tendency to get snagged on the ammunition carrying system, so that's what I attributed it to. My crew removed the bolts, and it immediately fell out and crushed me...

Come to find out, it was actually full of 500lbs of fuel, and the unspecified fault was that the fuel gauge was broken. So 827lbs fell on me. I herniated 3 discs (2 lumbar, 1 cervical), tore my sacroiliac joint, and fractured my C5 vertebrae. This was over 10 years ago. Now I'm 90% disabled with all sorts of pain, nerve, and mobility issues. All because we opted to do the job quickly instead of properly.

Username: vey323

I am transgender. Had a huge regenerative experience a couple years ago, after wrestling with it for a while and nearly killing myself numerous times. Finally gained some degree of self-acceptance. Started coming out to people, presenting as female, etc.

Felt what it was like to actually not loathe myself and want myself to wither away and die for the first time since puberty, basically... and *then* came the parents... they used everything in their sizable arsenal of emotional blackmail against me and just... broke me... I half-heartedly gave up and effectively detransitioned, went off hormones, etc...

Only just starting to regain my perspective a couple years later and admit to myself that I made a mistake when I gave up. "Permanent" is debatable here, I'm still pretty young but that's still years of my life that I wasted, isolating and wanting to kill myself almost daily. I am not the same person I was then and don't have any of the faith I had back then in happiness being possible at all in life. I hope some day I might regain some of that momentum I once had... but it doesn't even feel worth it, really. I just feel broken and want to die.

So yeah, ummm, to any of you trans kids struggling to be yourselves out there... detransitioning is not worth it. Unless it's literally a matter of immediate survival... it's just not worth it. All the shit people pile on you is overwhelmingly hard but detransitioning is really not a way out -- it just hollows you out to the point where you can't even fight back against the shit anymore. Please believe me.

Username: [deleted]

On Christmas Eve 2009, I was at a party with my fiance, his twin sister, and his little brother. I convinced our crew to leave earlier than we had planned. On the way home, a drunk driver ran a red light crashing into our car. My fiance was pronounced dead about twenty minutes after arriving at the hospital.

At the time of the accident, I was a senior in college while my fiance was a first year law student. We were high school sweethearts that had spent the last four and a half years in a cross-country long distance relationship. I had a job offer in the same city where he was in law school. We were, well, headed for our happily ever after.

The last four years of my life have been pretty much the opposite. Some weeks after the accident, I began having pretty severe panic attacks and was diagnosed with PTSD. I turned down the job. Couldn't fathom moving across the country to a new city, his city, alone. I struggled with my last semester of school, losing my honors distinction and practically begging one professor to take pity on me because her class was the last I needed to graduate.

My personal life was a mess. My friends didn't know how to deal with me. They'd get angry when I wasn't acting like myself or how they thought I should act. I can't really blame them. Many of them tried to understand my mindset, my actions but even I didn't fully understand what was going in my head.

And in the already strange transitionary period that is graduating college, I lost more than a few of them. I graduated and got a job that I thought would be the start of life turning around but it turned out to be two years of low-paying, bureaucratic bullshit.

During those two years at said shit job, I moved six times suffering through a revolving door of terrible roommates and landlords who stole from me, abused my dog, and were shockingly rude to me and my friends. I tried dating but it always made me very uncomfortable.

In the beginning, it felt like I was cheating. Once the feeling of infidelity faded, dating was still felt very strange, almost unnatural, to me and though the opportunity certainly presented itself, I haven't had sex in nearly four years.

Eventually, I made plans to leave the shit job and had my dream job all lined up. Again, I thought things were finally going my way. I was ready for a new city, new friends, a new challenge. Of course, it fell through just a few weeks before I had planned to move so with my lease ending and no job to speak of, I moved home where I've spent a year fruitlessly searching for a job in my field.

I don't blame myself for the accident nor do I often wallow in my own misfortune. I've tried to remain positive throughout most of it all -- I'm applying to graduate school now! I've been dating more! The friends that stuck around are awesome! -- but sometimes it's hard not to think about what my life would have been like had I just stayed at that damn party a little longer.

Username: charlottehm

Saying yes to a job as a Deputy Sheriff with an agency with a horrible reputation. Let me explain: I went to college, got a 4 year degree, then became a cop. anyone with a high school diploma can be a cop. I walked up to a car I pulled over one day and asked, "do you know why I am here?"

The kid's reply to me was "because you did below average in high school." He was right. My degree was in Criminal Justice and I ended up hating being a cop. Turns out, violating other's civil rights really isn't as much fun as Stalin made it seem.

I had $40k in student debt because nobody has any sense to teach America's youth about finances and I was stupid. I was like "ooh, free money!" My parents were always in debt so I thought it was normal. Then, I got married, which wasn't the bad part. We bought a house and had a child, in 2008, right before the collapse.

Then, my agency decided after 5 years that they didn't want me anymore with tightening budgets and all. So, I joined the ranks of the unemployed for almost two years because in an attempt to deny paying me unemployment, my agency lied and said I was fired for misconduct.

This essentially ruined my career. With Colorado being an at-will state, there was nothing I could do about it according to many lawyers. I have my letter saying I was terminated for fiscal reasons, but no employer cares about that because the sheriff is supposed to be honest. I still own a house I cannot sell in a state I no longer live in.

My life went to shit. I am over it now but this will always haunt me as I will never be able to pass a pre-employment background check because of my "firing" according to the agency. I will never be able to take a job with a background investigation because the agency's official record states misconduct and integrity issues because I fought it.

Even though I have official documentation to the contrary. I do have to look on the bright side constantly now. We are on the right track with new jobs and a new state to live in. I have a healthy family. I am losing the 100 pounds I put on while depressed and feeling sorry for myself after getting fired.

I am renting a house to live in while owning a house I rent to others. Wierd, huh? But I have a roof over my head. I am paying off my debt and now have an emergency fund AND a savings account. I can say I was very close to ending my own life. I put my loaded service weapon to my head one day and still do not know why I didn't pull the trigger.

Shit is good now. I have rebuilt my life, but I can trace everything to one phone call where I was offered a job a took the job despite all of the warnings I got about the agency and the career field.

Username: R1CHARDCRANIUM

I learned a lesson about drugs the hard way. About 10 years ago, during the height of my partying days, I accepted a white substance from a person who I (incorrectly) considered a friend. He told me it was cocaine before I did it. After I did a huge line, he told me it was actually ketamine. "But don't worry," he said, "it's exactly the same."

Well, no, it's pretty much the opposite of cocaine. But I didn't know that. I experienced the worst fear I'd ever felt in my life. I couldn't move, couldn't talk, could barely breathe (I'd already been drinking/doing cocaine for several hours that evening).

I felt like I was choking and lost all feeling in my body. My limbs turned into jelly and I starting falling. He sat me down on a couch in the afterhours club we were in. I had this very clear feeling, that I still remember to this day, that death was a gigantic, dark bird. It was perched upon my shoulders, getting heavier and threatening to crush me under its weight.

It took all my effort to try to force words out of my mouth. I said "can't breathe...hospital...home". He called a cab and he and one of his bouncer buddies dragged me up the stairs to the street. He got in the cab beside me and took me home.

My boyfriend was away for the weekend, a fact this "friend" was aware of. He took the keys from my purse, let himself into the apartment, and ended up sexually assaulting me. In my (and my boyfriend's) bed. Later, he denied everything and made me out to be a slut (even though I couldn't move). I didn't know anything about ketamine before this happened and after doing some reading about it, I guess I must have slipped into a "k-hole". I'm just lucky that I didn't die.

I went into self-destructive mode for a couple of years afterwards. My boyfriend dumped me (he blamed me for the rape and called me a slut; didn't help that our sex life was already non-existent). He kicked me out of our apartment, I had to go back home to live with my (emotionally abusive) mother and start my life over from scratch. I ended up going to a 12 step program and have been clean from hard drugs for 8 years. I learned my lesson; never accept drugs from strangers, or suffer the consequences.

Username: a_wild_priestess

Not worst ever per say, but most “recently worst.” I apologized to a woman, who lead me on, for hurting her feelings. She told me that for eleven years she had the biggest crush on me ever since she saw me in college but was scared to say something. So for a month she had me believing we were dating but deep down she just wanted to get back at me for not asking her out earlier or “friend zoning” her.

Whether or not she was lying or telling the truth about having a crush on me for this long is neither here or there, but either way, she and her best friend tried to set up a scenario that I couldn’t live my life and pursue my dream career without her.

I asked her out in a manner that a person from the outside looking in can see the frustration I had with the whole situation. Not only did she take offense to what I said, but she said I “crossed a line.” She tried to blame me for her own feelings being hurt and not taking responsibility for her own actions leading our friendship and working relationship to come to this point.

I apologized in a manner that was very empathetic and remorseful, but looking back with clarity and maturation, I should have never gave in to her and her friend’s childish and vindictive plot. Much of this happened through text chains and online messages (another mistake, should’ve kept our conversations in person or over the phone), so I know they were working together behind the scenes.

Why did they do this? Well they said that I friend zoned women all the time in college (I didn’t) and the mutual friend said that they were giving me a taste of my own medicine. Yes, silly right? Needless to say, I’ve cut off all lines of communication they had with me and blocked them on social media and my phone log. If they want to see or speak to me again, they’ll have to search high and low to find me. But they probably won’t nor do I care at this point. Long story short, I should’ve never apologized for my romantic advances and left her on read.

Username: Jred1990D

Meeting my ex-girlfriend's polyamorous partner. She wanted to be in a poly relationship while going out with me. (This should have been a big red flag to me) I accepted it because I loved her, but I didn't realize how much this would fuck me up.

I asked if she had a partner, that I'd meet them first. He was really nice, similar major as me, cool attitude. I had a slight confused crush on him. (I identified as full-on lesbian at the time so that was even more confusing) My ex teased me about this and shared this was the partner. But the crush feelings went as far as "He's cute." and that's it. No sexual vibes or anything.

My ex-girlfriend's friend asked if he wanted to grab dinner with me a few days before my finals. Me being a freshman in college and going out to dinner with friends a lot, I said yeah. Didn't think anything of it.

I was sexually assaulted that night. I flopped all my finals because of everything that happened. My parents never knew why I flopped my finals and didn't know what happened until 10 years later. I kept my mouth shut, even after getting a rape kit set up because I knew my parents would pull me from college if they found out and I was terrified of the man who did it.

My ex-girlfriend was supportive and brought me to therapy. But she immediately wanted another a polyamorous partner even after what happened. At this point, the rose colored shades flew off and I realized a lot of her tendencies were really toxic to me.

Thankfully, I broke up with her once summer break hit. Because of my flopped finals, I had to stay an additional year working on my major because it bombed my GPA.

I still have nightmares about this every now and then. Therapy helped a lot and I'm thankful for the women's services at my college for helping me through it. To this day, when I'm alone in a car with a man, I have massive anxiety. I have full on panic attacks if they drive an alternate path to where I need to go.

Username: [deleted]