Ifixit

Best long-lasting fix?
Heyo, I'm a uni student and I got my bedframe secondhand. A few days ago it finally ended up snapping. Anyone got any ideas for a long-lasting fix? I really like this bed so I'd prefer not to have to replace it, plus I don't have much money lol. I've stabilized it with a few textbooks my friend isn't using in the meantime.

Broke glass while cleaning for move out in 32 hours.
While struggling to remove baby lock off a glass cabinet, I broke the glass. I’m freaking out. I move out in 32 hours and have spent hours getting this place in tip top shop to get my deposit back. Can I fix this? Is it worth it? How would I go about fixing it? Please help, I need the deposit back.

New Oven Handle Hits Drawer.
We got a new oven to have all new appliances for selling our house. We didn’t realize till to late that the stupid spice drawer would hit this massive handle. Any thoughts on how to fix this? Or just hope no one notices?

Stove: LG lren6323ye/05

Shower head flew off.
Can I just buy a new head and put it on that or do I need more ?

Broken hinge, no idea what to do and what screws to use.
Any advice would be much appreciated. I’m aware this may seem mundane to a lot of people, so apologies in advance!

This bottom hinge in my kitchen cupboard has come loose. The last pic is the of the top one which seems to have been fitted with different screws (at least they look different / larger) - should I be trying to obtain the larger screws ?

(I’ve tried to tighten the screws it came with and unfortunately it seems like the chipboard the has been screwed into has been damaged so not sure if I need a whole new side or something)

Thanks

Product got stuck in the cylinder.
Got an iron cleaner and the packaging is how its supposed to look when I pull the red thing but instead it all compacted into the cylinder and its imperative that the cylinder does not get harmed.

UPDATE: How would you remove this stuck Mason jar without damaging the mug?
The cylinder did not remain unharmed!

I smashed the jar with an emergency car window breaking tool. At first it seemed like I had created a worse problem for myself - as I feared, only the top part of the jar initially broke, and so I had the same problem but sharper. I was luckily able to break apart the bottom without damaging the mug. Now it’s all washed and ready for my roommate to take to their new house!

Thank you so much to everyone who commented with helpful suggestions and even links to buy a replacement mug if needed! Special thanks

My stepmother violated my trust for years, turning the person who was supposed to care for me into someone I learned to fear. I call myself a “motherless child,” not because my mother was absent, but because the woman who stepped into that role became the source of my deepest pain. My childhood was taken from me at seven years old, when emotional manipulation and intimidation began shaping every part of my life.

She targeted me out of insecurity, creating a false image of who I was so others would doubt my voice. The harm she caused was intentional and controlling. My father added to the trauma through fear and physical punishment, reminding me constantly that speaking up would only bring more danger.

Growing up in this environment left me with Complex PTSD. I developed a protective emotional barrier that once kept me safe, but now isolates me and disrupts my ability to function. I fight to build stability, but at times I crash, withdrawing from the world and struggling to maintain my responsibilities. The echoes of my past still interfere with my present, but I continue to reclaim my truth. My story is one of survival, resilience, and learning to protect the child I once was.

My name is Carrie, and this is the truth I carried in silence for many years.

When I was eight, my mom married her third husband. At first, he seemed like the perfect stepfather—kind, helpful, and the man we hoped would finally bring peace after my father’s abuse. But everything changed one New Year’s Eve in 2011. That night marked the beginning of a secret that would shadow my childhood and shape my understanding of trust, safety, and fear.

By the time I was ten, I realized he was also hurting my younger cousin. We were just two children, navigating a world we didn’t have words for, trying to survive something we could barely understand. Our family had never talked about safety, boundaries, or what to do when someone violated trust, so all we knew was that what was happening felt wrong. When my cousin came to live with us, the fear intensified. I tried to protect her the best I could, even though I was still a child myself, powerless in many ways.

Eventually, my cousin moved away, leaving me alone with the man who had taken so much from both of us. For years, I carried the weight of the trauma silently, afraid to speak, ashamed, and unsure if anyone would believe me. At fourteen, after confiding in a friend, I finally found the courage to tell my mom. Her world, and mine, shattered. He went to prison, but my mom fell into her own darkness, grappling with guilt, grief, and the aftermath of what had happened.

Surviving those years was not easy. I had to learn how to navigate trust, safety, and emotional healing as I grew older. But over time, I began to reclaim my voice, my power, and my life. Sharing my story now is an act of courage, not only for myself but for every child who has felt powerless, invisible, or unheard. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest moments, it is possible to survive, to heal, and to grow beyond the pain that once threatened to define us.

My story begins at an age when I should have felt safest. Instead, I grew up in an environment filled with fear, silence, and confusion. The adults who were supposed to protect me created a home where boundaries were ignored and harm was hidden behind closed doors. My mother struggled deeply, and my father controlled every part of our lives. Instead of support, I received harsh words, intimidation, and emotional neglect that shaped my entire childhood.

Throughout those early years, I lived with a constant sense of danger and uncertainty. My father’s controlling behavior isolated me from the world, and my mother was overwhelmed by her own battles. I learned to stay quiet, to carry pain I didn’t understand, and to survive moments no child should ever experience. People outside our home saw only the version of him he wanted them to see—kind, hardworking, dependable. The mask hid everything.

As I entered my teenage years, I coped the only way I knew how. I turned to alcohol, trying to numb feelings I hadn’t been allowed to express. The silence I was forced to maintain nearly destroyed me. I began to lose myself, trapped between what people believed about my family and what I knew to be true.

It wasn’t until adulthood that I finally found the strength to reclaim my life. Therapy became my lifeline—fifteen long, difficult years that helped me understand my trauma, rebuild my self-worth, and break free from the fear that had followed me since childhood. My mother eventually found sobriety, and I found faith, which gave me the sense of safety and unconditional love I had never known growing up.

Now, at 54, I can finally say I am whole. The little girl who once felt powerless has grown into a woman who stands strong in her truth. My story is no longer a secret carried in the shadows—it is a testament to resilience, healing, and the courage to rise after being broken. The cycle ends with me.

I was molested by my older brother.
My earliest childhood memories, are of being abused. It didn’t stop until my brother moved out of the house when I about 10. I tried telling a family member once in grade school, but the reaction I got told me I shouldn’t talk about it anymore. And I didn’t. It haunted me every night, with awful vivid dreams and recurring nightmares. The kind you feel the weight and emotions of all day long, for decades. Ive tried 16+ different antidepressants since my 20s, but I could never shake the weight of the sadness and pain. It followed me into everything I did, robbing me of so much joy. I finally realized that I was still living the abuse when I hit my 40s, and I unraveled. I didn’t expect it to completely change my life. I was ostracized and harassed by my mother, because as she put it “if you’d have complained louder, then I would have put a stop to it” and she said her precious son (who’s a lifelong abuser and registered s*x offender) was being victimized by me!
Fast forward 10 years to today, I know now that telling someone set me free. It can’t give you back the childhood that was stolen, but it can transform all that pain into something amazing. Something so much better. I know it’s given me so much compassion, empathy and understanding that I don’t think I’d have otherwise, and I’ve been able to be there for others in ways that I know have helped. I’ve had some wonderful therapists and I’ve done a lot of work, and I know there’s still more to be done, but I know I can do it, and so can you! It’s never too late to tell somebody, and set yourself free. You already know how painful and scary it is to hold it in, so if you haven’t taken a step toward healing, please, please try. Tiny steps will still get you somewhere better, and there are so many of us in this world that will help get you thru. For everything that falls away, you will gain so much more thru healing❤️ . There is so much to gain, in healing. Thanks!