Latest news with #personalstory
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Yahoo
People Who Were Kidnapped Are Sharing What Happened And How They Survived, And Holy Crap
Recently, I came across this Reddit thread where u/ZeusDX1118 asked "People who've been kidnapped, how did you survive?" Here's what people shared: 1."It was 1988. I was kidnapped way before my memories formed, so this is all from my parents and the police report. Basically, a lady in the nursing ward decided to give me a 'spicy adoption' by hiding me in some sheets and taking me out of the hospital. She was tracked down a few days later, and I was handed back to my parents. She didn't mistreat me. Apparently, I was a healthy, normal child, and she even bought the expensive stuff in order to take care of me. I got to meet her in my teens. I asked her, 'Why me?' and it was because my family hadn't done the paperwork for me correctly, so I was easier to slip out and potentially give her more time to disappear with me. If you have more questions, feel free to reply to the message, and I'll answer them." —None 2."I was kidnapped when I was 7. It was by a very person addicted to drugs, a family member, who told me he was bringing me out for ice cream. He left me on a bench outside a bar when the bartender told him he couldn't bring kids in. It was a dirty biker bar in Las Vegas during the 90s. I was young, scared, and didn't fully comprehend the situation. I was confused why we didn't go to an ice cream shop. The family member came out with two men who fully terrified me. One of them touched my curly, bright red hair and smiled widely. I remember not knowing what to do, so I started singing Joan Osborne's 'What if god was one of us?' They got freaked when I wouldn't stop singing and walked back into the bar. I was definitely a weird kid, but scream singing as self-defense was kind of smart." "I was left alone on the bench again when a man walked up and asked me where my parents were. I told him I didn't get ice cream and wanted to go back to my mom, but my family member wouldn't let me. He walked into the bar but came out just a minute later and sat with me until the police arrived. Twenty years later, my mom saw that family member for the first time. He was on end-of-life hospice care but made it to another family member's funeral. When everyone was filtering out, he was waiting on the bus home when my mom punched him in the face. I love my mom." —None 3."I was kidnapped at gunpoint along with my younger brother and my early-twenties mother when I was in kindergarten. My father, 40 years old, hadn't taken the divorce well and already had some psychiatric illness, so he forced us all into his truck and drove us from California to Mexico. At the time, my parents told us kids that we were taking a family trip. I remember the drive, shopping in a street market, and being greeted by the flashing lights of police cars when we eventually returned to the States. The police were nice and let us sit in the police car! I remember being excited about that." —sensualcephalopod 4."A cousin of mine was kidnapped as a baby by his aunt and uncle and taken to Australia and raised as their very own child. The kid was born to a middle-income family in a third-world country. My cousin's father's brother was a wealthy man in Australia who had spent the previous year living back home. He and his wife, who could not have children, plotted to visit the new baby and claim him as their own, with the father of the child aiding them in the kidnapping. The baby was taken from the mother in the middle of the night (they drugged her) and flown to Australia, where the uncle and aunt claimed the child was theirs." "This happened in the late 90s, so I'm not sure how they did it, but regardless, the child was never returned to the mother. They ended up telling her where the child was but threatened to have her put in prison and the child up for adoption if she ever spoke out, so she never did. My cousin was raised until 17 years old with his false family until he found the truth by reconnecting with his mother through Facebook. When he turned 18, he confronted his real parents, and they admitted everything. The next day, he moved out and flew 12 hours to meet his new family. Really messed up story. The kid is a great dude, tho." —mariokart890 Related: Your Wand, Your Way — The More You Customize, The More Magical The Results Will Be 5."A friend of mine was kidnapped on his paper route. The kidnappers/robbers wanted his van to commit a robbery. They handcuffed him, put a bag over his head, and left him in the back of the van during the robbery. When they were done, they told him to count to 100 before he got up and took off the mask. Pretty wild." —strangesandwich 6."My grandmother's brother was kidnapped and held for ransom. He's a successful businessman. He was held at gunpoint in the parking lot of his office building. It was in the papers and everything. It was a month before the kidnappers even made contact with the family to make their demands. These guys were pros; they've done this before and did their research. They knew exactly how much he was worth. It was really tough for us. From his accounts, they never physically harmed him, but he was kept in a dark room the entire time and fed sandwiches. Even got him his medication. Prayer and thinking of his family were the only things that got him through those three months." "In the end, they caught the guy on top of the operation, and they let him go. To say he was traumatized is an understatement. I've never seen a person so broken before. Couldn't even crack a smile." —ParkerZA 7."My parents were kidnapped at gunpoint by two dudes in New Orleans. They went out to dinner for their 1st wedding anniversary and were held up outside of the restaurant. They forced my parents into their car in the backseat, and they drove around for a while. Took everything from my parents: wedding rings, watch, and wallets. Apparently, some lady saw this take place and called 911 from a pay phone. Luckily, the two guys dropped my parents off and drove away. I don't think they were ever caught, though." —kingcakefucks Related: 30 Vocabulary Terms That Only People With An IQ Between 125–145 Can Define 8."When I was 12, somebody took me from a Target parking lot and put me in their trunk. Somebody saw and started driving after us. The guy stopped and ran away when he realized that people saw him. he stopped, and I got out." —Brandcrazultra 9."I was working alone at a gas station in my middle-of-nowhere town. A robber came in with a gun to rob the store and then kidnap me. He made me drive his Durango to the next exit, and we drove out a few miles when he dropped me off. I thought he was taking me out to execute me, but it was in reality to get me further from a phone. This was 1999, so cell phones were not popular. Took me a while to make it to the closest house where someone answered the door with a shotgun. He ended up helping me get hold of the sheriff." —auto_pHIGHlot 10."I was grabbed in a parking lot and pulled into the backseat of a car. I started kicking and screaming and flailing around. The passenger had a gun pointed at me, and I was trying to hit it out of his hand while the person in the backseat was trying to restrain me. I fought for my life. There was no thinking or anything, I just went straight to fight mode. They ended up stopping in a dark neighborhood and threw me out into the street. During all this they were calling me names and saying other shit but I don't really remember those details. I just remember fighting for my life and screaming." —None 11."I was kidnapped when I was 9, but I didn't even realize at the time. My school bus got stolen, and the guy drove around picking up random kids. We caught on and started yelling out the windows. The guy panicked and dropped us off at a school none of us went to. We told the secretary what happened, and a bunch of cops came." —imsothrough 12."One of the guy's girlfriends in the house found me and took pity on me. She snuck me out when they all went out drinking. She dropped me off at a corner gas station, and I think I ran the rest of the way home...I am not a runner by any means. I'll never forget stepping into the living room of my house that how terrified I was to sleep, so I slept in the bed with my mom." —sabineastroph 13."Technically, I was kidnapped by a fake cab driver in the nineties in London. I called a minicab company like a sensible 20-year-old, it being late and me being alone in a miniskirt. I wait outside the pub, the car turns up, and the driver says, 'Are you [my name]?' So I get in, he puts on the fare meter and off we drive, his company radio babbling in the background. A few minutes into this, the dispatcher starts talking to another cab driver over the radio, and the other cab driver on the radio says, 'That [my name] girl isn't at the Red Lion pub, someone said she got into another car. I look at his radio set up, his radio doesn't have a handset, just receives. Basically, this guy had bought a radio receiver to eavesdrop on the cab messages and poach their customers. So... I'm in the back of a total stranger's car now, no one knows this, and the car has taken an odd turn, not the route he should have taken to get to my block of flats." "I go cold. As luck would have it, the car gets caught by a red light and comes to a stop. I grab my bag and bail out of the door, throwing a balled up five at him as I go. The driver then swears a bit, and I bolt into the off-licence next to the lights. He has to drive off because there's traffic behind him a few seconds later. I walk home via populated areas. Hard to say if this was a sex offender or just someone poaching fares. I didn't wait to find out." —ukhoneybee 14."I was 6. I wandered away from my mom at a Value City (back when they sold clothes). I don't remember everything too clearly, but this man told me he would help me find my mom, and he took me to his car. Apparently, someone saw me crying and called the police, and the cops pulled him over. They arrested him. Not sure what happened to him." —Poopdicks69 finally, "I was kidnapped when I left work one night. We struggled briefly, but he forced his way into my car. He had a gun. He said he wanted me to go to the ATM and get money. I told him I didn't have any, but I could get some money from my work. After a short time, I just drove back to my work, got out of the car, and took my purse and car keys with me. Luckily, our security person was at the door when I walked in. I just completely broke down, and he took charge. He called the police, who got there really quickly. My kidnapper was waiting for me in my car to come back with the money. The police took him to jail." —Iwantbubbles If you were kidnapped and feel comfortable sharing your story, tell us in the comments or us the anonymous form below: Also in BuzzFeed: Since It's Pride Month, Let's Find Out How Well You Really Know These Iconic Modern LGBTQ Movies Also in BuzzFeed: I Just Designed The Most Magical Fairy Outfit Using This Renaissance Fair Generator, And I'm Dying To See What You'll Make Also in BuzzFeed: 19 Would-Be Murder Victims Are Sharing Their Encounters With Serial Killers, And I'm Never Sleeping Again
Associated Press
28-05-2025
- Automotive
- Associated Press
Chaikin Trial Group Announces Rebuilding the Road Ahead Scholarship
Chaikin Trial Group Personal Injury Lawyers Launches its $2,500 Rebuilding the Road Ahead: How an Accident Inspired My New Direction Scholarship LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK / ACCESS Newswire / May 28, 2025 / Chaikin Trial Group Personal Injury Lawyers launches the Rebuilding the Road Ahead: How an Accident Inspired My New Direction scholarship. Starting in 2025, this $2,500 scholarship will support students whose lives were changed by a severe car accident. Applicants are asked to create a video sharing their personal story about how a car crash impacted their life. They are invited to discuss the challenges they faced, how they felt, and how the experience changed their future plans, including academic and career goals. Students pursuing higher education at an accredited college, university, or graduate school are encouraged to apply. Applicants must meet the following criteria: The application deadline is December 15, 2025. After the deadline, the scholarship committee will review all applications. The decision process may take one to three months, depending on the number of submissions. For more details about the Rebuilding the Road Ahead: How an Accident Inspired My New Direction scholarship, students and their families can review the terms and conditions on the law firm's official website. Chaikin Trial Group Personal Injury Lawyers looks forward to reviewing the first round of scholarship essays in 2025 and wishes all applicants the best of luck. About Chaikin Trial Group One of Long Island's premier personal injury law firms, Chaikin Trial Group is built on a foundation of trust and transparency. As experienced attorneys, the team knows the long-lasting impact of any type of accident, including car crashes, which is why they have launched the Rebuilding the Road Ahead: How an Accident Inspired My New Direction scholarship. The law firm has achieved impressive results, with a total amount of $100 million recovered for clients. With 50 years of combined experience, the team brings a wealth of knowledge and experience to every case. Since its founding in 2020, the firm has established a strong reputation for its commitment to securing favorable outcomes for clients. Founder Ian Chaikin is known for his aggressive approach and proven track record in securing results for clients with various injuries. Whether handling cases involving motor vehicle collisions or other catastrophic events, the firm's attorneys bring unmatched skill and energy to every case. Legal Disclaimer: This scholarship opportunity is not a form of legal advice or legal representation. Submitting an application does not create an attorney-client relationship with Chaikin Trial Group. All eligibility decisions are at the sole discretion of the firm. Contact InformationBreanna Quod 212-977-2020 SOURCE: Chaikin Trial Group press release
Globe and Mail
27-05-2025
- General
- Globe and Mail
Sometimes I feel like I live in two worlds at once
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at Imagine living in two worlds at the same time and not even in the same time zone. It feels like living a double-life. Ever since I came to Canada in 2021, I have felt like I am waking up in two different places every day. It took me a while to realize that distance isn't changing and I have to get used to it. When I left Iran 14 years ago to study abroad in Halifax, the idea of immigrating never even occurred to me. The plan was to get a degree and go back like my dad did when he was my age. Things changed. Success was, and still is, so appealing to a young woman like me who knew that if she went back home, her potential would be suppressed by society. So, I stayed in Canada for the graduation ceremony, then my first job, and volunteering. A second job, then my dream job and, finally, I stayed for love. This was the beginning of rooting myself in my second home. But after all these years, I still cannot manage to be present in just one place. I wake up at 7:30 a.m. in Vancouver and it is 7:30 at night in Tehran. I check my phone for local news, and I check my WhatsApp for the daily news of Iran, that my dad sends me. I make breakfast while video chatting with my sister, who is preparing my nephew for bedtime. Then I start working, at noon I realize that it is my parents' bedtime and I need my daily dose of their voices and reach out. It is a ritual — having lunch while talking to my parents with my mouth full. My mom will say in Farsi, 'Eat your lunch at ease. We will stay awake for you to call back.' But she doesn't know how much I enjoy talking to them while having lunch. It reminds me of our kitchen back home where we used to have lunch together as a family on Fridays. When my parents sleep, my day starts. I try to focus, be present and catch up with my life, with less distraction from the second world that I live in. When I am getting prepared for bedtime, my family wakes up in Iran. Before closing my eyes at night, I imagine myself being with them, beside them. I imagine watching my dad eating breakfast and my mom packing his lunch bag. I imagine looking at my sister waking up and doing her makeup. I imagine lecturing my nephew, now a teenager. If I were there, I probably could encourage my mom to go for a walk and care more about her health or I would have hidden my dad's cigarettes, although I know he would go out to buy a new pack. Sometimes I remember that I once wanted to return home and buy a farmhouse in northern Iran and learn pottery. After so much thinking about what I would, could or should have done, I fall asleep. I sometimes have dreams about being with family in Tehran or being excited because they are coming to visit me. When I met my partner and decided that he was 'the one' a few years ago, I had to have a strict self-talk. I told myself: 'You are rooted here enough that you are now in love, and you know that going back will no longer be an option!' And that was it. My inner-parent instructed my inner-child and I accepted the fact that Canada was my second home, staying to live with the love of my life. This will be the only place for me to remain rooted, to grow and be fruitful. One day, I will tell my story to my kids and let them choose where they want to root, grow, love and make a life. Until then or forever (whichever it might be), I will continue living in two worlds. The sweetest thing that keeps me going is knowing that there are people in both worlds who love me unconditionally and whom I love in return. Mahkia Eybagi lives in Vancouver.
Globe and Mail
26-05-2025
- General
- Globe and Mail
At first she ghosted me, then dropped me with AI. I'm not sure which was worse
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at I met my friend in university. We shared a birthday, and we used to share an irreverent sense of humour. Both of us without siblings, there was a kinship. Over the course of 25 years, despite a chasm of several thousand kilometres, we maintained an emotional closeness. Just a few years ago, during a challenging time in her life, I flew across the continent to tend to her donkeys so she could attend to her own well-being. Highlights of my stay included mucking stalls in the 40-degree temperatures, skirting scuttling tarantulas (it was tarantula mating season) and sweaty co-sleeping with her pit bull. I wouldn't describe it as a comfortable visit, but I didn't mind as it was an important one. It was also an escape from my increasingly predictable life and the pandemic lockdowns. I had always enjoyed my friend's quirkiness, her love of animals and her life off the beaten path. Recently, this path had veered toward alternate forms of energy healing, including tuning forks and sound baths – not really my thing. A few months ago, I sent what I intended as a playful text that may have been seen as making light of whom she was aspiring to become. Soon thereafter, I noticed a chill. While I was visiting her city, she was 'too drained' to meet for dinner and cancelled our plans. I admit, I was a bit relieved. Our differences were making it challenging to find common ground. Her new interests seemed to have edited out her self-deprecating humour that I had once so thoroughly enjoyed. In turn, I suspect she found me spiritually bankrupt or terminally cynical. Unfortunately, it seems I will never know. I didn't want our friendship to end based on a single text that may have been hurtful to her. After a few failed attempts to meaningfully check in, I apologized if my note had landed sideways and suggested a phone call. In return, I got an e-mail that, at first glance, seemed civil and thoughtful. It thanked me for my apology, said 'nothing dramatic' had happened, but admitted that 'things had shifted for her' and she 'no longer felt a pull to stay in touch.' She wished me well for 'whatever is next.' Part of me admired her honesty. We all outgrow some friendships but sometimes maintain them out of obligation. Maybe this was what 'conscious uncoupling' (or in this case, conscious unfriending) is all about? Perhaps her approach had more integrity than my efforts to limp along out of shared history and a sense of duty. But something – besides my bruised ego – was nagging at me. The syntax of her e-mail was troubling: it was formal and used em dashes that weren't her style. Her sentiments were expressed in a vague and rather generic manner. Upon the suggestion of a much more tech-savvy friend, I ran this message through an AI checker. While not infallible, it suggested that her message was entirely written by AI. After a 25-year friendship, it seemed that I had been dumped by a bot. Let me diverge for a moment. Despite working part-time in academia, I had not yet become 'AI-empowered.' Like my long since departed grandmother, who had felt too old to master the VCR, I simply refused to embrace this new technology. I found it creepy, and I wanted to think for myself. My husband, captivated with AI, talked about 'Claude,' a seemingly French chatbot whom he thinks to be vastly improving his life. When Eric asked me a question, I would sometimes tease, 'let's just consult with Claaaude …'. Now, since having been bot-dumped, I've been tooling around with AI, myself. My friends and I have enlisted it to produce off-colour songs about each other set to Whitney Houston soundtracks. I also asked Claude for a menu of possible replies to my friend's message. (None of which I sent.) It (he?) started by acknowledging how painful that message must have been. Claude had been supremely, but eerily, validating. As a therapist, I was scratching my head and more than a little fearful for my job. When I think about my friend's goodbye e-mail, I wonder if breaking up with friends is unnecessarily dramatic. Is it more natural to have relationships slowly die on the vine? Should the world spin based on polite white lies and loosely sustained connections or is there a clarity and integrity in consciously acknowledging that we no longer find a connection fulfilling? The effort of grieving may be more than this situation calls for, and yet, I do feel some sadness not only about the loss of the specific connection, but also loss of connection more broadly. I will never know whether my former friend used this tool to help her find words for her feelings or whether she just couldn't be bothered to speak from the heart. I am left questioning at what precipice are we now standing with AI, and where will I stand a year from now? Will we be 'empowered' or enhanced, or will we have a convenient shortcut that removes the essence from the ways we are meant to relate? Perhaps I'll just ask Claude. Julie Goldenson lives in Toronto.
Globe and Mail
21-05-2025
- Lifestyle
- Globe and Mail
Uh-oh. Am I really becoming my parents? But maybe that's not a bad thing
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at Recently, I read an article in a magazine about how we turn into our parents as we age. According to the article, the telltale signs are complaining about the weather, dressing for comfort instead of style, going to bed early, falling asleep while watching TV and cooking the same meals. Apparently, the average age for this to happen is 43. I reflected on this new information for a while and thought, I am sure that this is not happening to me. Even though I am older than 43, I feel that I have done the exact opposite of my parents all my life. They always lived in a large house with a ping-pong table in the basement and they held weekly tournaments with their neighbours. Whereas I live in a small condo with no ping-pong table as I prefer indoor tennis at the rec center. My Mom was an avid vegetable gardener, whereas I only plant flowers in the springtime in small pots. I don't go on annual campervan trips, preferring hotels and spas, and I certainly don't cook a roast beef dinner every Sunday night. Also in my favour: I definitely do not moan about the weather or go to bed early. The next day, my daughter came over for afternoon tea and I showed her the article and told her how it did not apply to me. She looked at me askance. 'Mom,' she said, as she put another piece of chocolate cake on my plate, 'you are very much like your parents.' 'No thanks,' I said, 'Too many calories.' 'Aha!' she cried. 'Just like your Mom! Grandma was always counting calories!' My mouth dropped. 'Oh, that's not fair,' I protested. 'Everyone counts calories.' 'And you are serving tea in the same teacups your Mom used and stirring the tea with her silver spoons,' she pointed out. 'I rest my case,' she added with a smirk. After my daughter went home, I continued to ponder the article and think about other ways I might be turning into my parents. I didn't listen to Tony Bennett or Frank Sinatra like my Dad constantly did on his stereo system. But I must admit that I did enjoy listening to the crooning of Michael Bublé. I walked into the bedroom and peered into my closet. Did I choose comfort over style? It's true that I prefer elastic waistbands for my skirts and wear stretchy sports bras instead of pushup underwire bras. However, I still enjoy dressing up for parties and wearing high heels. So, I couldn't be doing that badly in the fashion and style department. I perused the article again. It stated that the vast majority of people have family members and friends who have also turned into their Mom and Dad. It seems like everybody is becoming mini versions of their parents. It's unavoidable. I thought about some of my friends and whether they were showing any telltale signs. I recalled that one of my friends recently covered the rooms in her house with wallpaper that looked similar to the wallpaper in her parents' house. And another friend has joined a quilting group and sews log cabin quilts, just like her mother. And I must not forget my sister who has recently purchased a ping-pong table and was inviting her neighbours over to play. I laughed. I was now starting to agree with the article. It was also at this moment that I realized the resemblances that I may have with my parents are actually rather comforting. For example, I like hearing my cuckoo clock sing the hours just like my Mom's clock did. I also like embroidered pillowcases, which were a mainstay in my parent's bedroom. I like to cook the same split pea soup that my Mom made every Saturday morning and I have a large carpentry toolbox – just like Dad's – for fixing things around my condo. In the end, it felt good to embrace this comfort and wisdom. I guess I have unknowingly become a mini version of my parents, and now I must admit that I like it. Jerri Carson lives in Victoria.
