Affiliate Marketing Secrets

I have a very good friend name Armena that goes to my church and has all 25 years of her life. Her mother is American and her father I believe is from Turkey. Her parents dont attend the church, but her grandparents on her mothers side do and they have taken her to the church all 25 years of her life. Although her mother doesnt attend, her mother has since 1978, given money to support a missionary affiliated with the church who does work in India. The church treasurer, is very nosy and gossipy and rather than go to this girls grandparents that attend, the treasurer said to Armena, “Would your mom be interested in writing (Rebecca, the Missionary). Rebecca called me and feels that because of your fathers faith, that she cant contact your mom, since she has seen some men overseas you were abusive to their wifes”. This upset my friend Armena and the treasurer said “This is just between us” but what the treasurer meant was that she was to “keep it between us” but the treasurer could go around the church and blab about what this lady said to everyone else. My friend told her grandparents how hurt she was, so at a ladies prayer meeting, the grandmother said please pray for my granddaughter she has been hurt very badly by someone at the church. The ministers wife who isnt discreet and talks a lot (knew who her grandmother meant) even though no names were mentioned and went and told the church treasurer that. Armena stayed away from this woman who she was friendly with before, until she said that to her.
The church treasurer was angry when the pastors wife told her that and also going around telling everyone that Armena has been ignoring her, and they (the treasurer and Armena) were on friendly terms before that, so the treasurer wrote a nasty email to Armena and said:
“I was wanting to take up this issue with you and your grandparents, but since you were the one I orignally talked to, I thought I would email you. I am not sure what you told your grandmother but I happened to find out by accident that your grandma went to someone else in church and was complaining about me upsetting her granddaughter. I am very disappointed that I wanted to relay something good and exciting since this missionary wanted to tell your mom all she was able to do with the money your mom gave her, and you chose to turn it into something ugly. I am sorry my friendship with you meant so little that you would choose to not even come around me”.
A few months went by, and the treasurer angrily came to her grandmother and said “I have been told twice by two other parishioners that I was not to come to you about this, but I am angry and I will” and she told the grandmother, your granddaughter owes me an apology, she avoided me after I talked to her” The granddaughter talked to her nicely and said she never mentioned names she mentioned in a ladies prayer meeting that her granddaughter had been hurt and to pray for her so she wouldnt leave the church.
Well after all this, my friend Armena has left the church. My question is:
1) Obviously this wasnt handled well. But who is wrong in this case, the church treasurer or Armena? Naturally I dont think its Armena’s fault
2) What could have been done more properly in this situation so Armena wouldnt have left?

Who was right/wrong in this situation?
I have a very good friend name Armena that goes to my church and has all 25 years of her life. Her mother is American and her father I believe is from Turkey. Her parents dont attend the church, but her grandparents on her mothers side do and they have taken her to the church all 25 years of her life. Although her mother doesnt attend, her mother has since 1978, given money to support a missionary affiliated with the church who does work in India. The church treasurer, is very nosy and gossipy and rather than go to this girls grandparents that attend, the treasurer said to Armena, “Would your mom be interested in writing (Rebecca, the Missionary). Rebecca called me and feels that because of your fathers faith, that she cant contact your mom, since she has seen some men overseas you were abusive to their wifes”. This upset my friend Armena and the treasurer said “This is just between us” but what the treasurer meant was that she was to “keep it between us” but the treasurer could go around the church and blab about what this lady said to everyone else. My friend told her grandparents how hurt she was, so at a ladies prayer meeting, the grandmother said please pray for my granddaughter she has been hurt very badly by someone at the church. The ministers wife who isnt discreet and talks a lot (knew who her grandmother meant) even though no names were mentioned and went and told the church treasurer that. Armena stayed away from this woman who she was friendly with before, until she said that to her.
The church treasurer was angry when the pastors wife told her that and also going around telling everyone that Armena has been ignoring her, and they (the treasurer and Armena) were on friendly terms before that, so the treasurer wrote a nasty email to Armena and said:
“I was wanting to take up this issue with you and your grandparents, but since you were the one I orignally talked to, I thought I would email you. I am not sure what you told your grandmother but I happened to find out by accident that your grandma went to someone else in church and was complaining about me upsetting her granddaughter. I am very disappointed that I wanted to relay something good and exciting since this missionary wanted to tell your mom all she was able to do with the money your mom gave her, and you chose to turn it into something ugly. I am sorry my friendship with you meant so little that you would choose to not even come around me”.
A few months went by, and the treasurer angrily came to her grandmother and said “I have been told twice by two other parishioners that I was not to come to you about this, but I am angry and I will” and she told the grandmother, your granddaughter owes me an apology, she avoided me after I talked to her” The granddaughter talked to her nicely and said she never mentioned names she mentioned in a ladies prayer meeting that her granddaughter had been hurt and to pray for her so she wouldnt leave the church.
Well after all this, my friend Armena has left the church. My question is:
1) Obviously this wasnt handled well. But who is wrong in this case, the church treasurer or Armena? Naturally I dont think its Armena’s fault
2) What could have been done more properly in this situation so Armena wouldnt have left?

I have a little OC-crew in my mind and all of them seem not too Mary & Gary Sue-ish, but I’m having problems with one of them, the youngest one. Her name is Amy and she is 14, her grandmother was one of the first humans to be subjected to Element Zero (accidentally of course) and her mother received biotic powers as well as L2 implants. Later on the Alliance found out that if they played around with the genetic coding of the first gen-biotics and subject them to just enough element zero their children could posses brain power that could out smart even the salarians. However the project was a failure, the children ended up mentally impaired, or dead within weeks of birth, that is of course except for a tiny percentage of children but the project was closed down before any of them were recorded. Amy was born shortly after the project was closed, with gifts that surpassed anything that they could ever hope for. Her mother died during childbirth so she had to live with her grandmother who was bitter towards the government, and the world for her lost daughter. That bitterness passed on to Amy, who later on became a recluse, long story short, using her extremely high IQ she became interested in bomb making, and even made business selling home made bombs and weapons to the black market under the alias “Aegis”. However, her cover was blown and mercenaries who felt like cutting the middle man stormed into her house, killed her grandmother, and kidnapped her to their base. There, my other OC unwittingly save her. With no where to go and plenty of rage to spare, she basically forced herself into his crew, saying that they wouldn’t find a better explosive expert anywhere else, which was true. So the main OC begrudgingly let her join on the exception that she does not leave the ship for field missions. Another reason way the main OC let her join was because she explained to him that because of her “power” her brain develops faster than humanly possible, so even though she is a genius, there might be a large chance that she will go brain dead or lose insanity by the time she’s 20, so she really is at the prime of her life. Another problem she faces is she has to keep her superior brainpower a secret, because she knows the minute the government find out that the project was a success they would start it back up again despite the fact that it would endanger countless of children’s lives.

I confided in my parents that my uncle masturbated in front of me and asks me to participate. This happened long time ago when I was in elementary school. I kept it secret until my early 30’s, about a half a decade ago.
A couple years before I confessed about my uncle, I confessed that my grandfather would behave in such a way that blurred the lines of a healthy grandfather/daughter relationship. My grandfather would play kiss and tickle, while pressing his boy on top of me, kissing my neck and ear on the bed. I felt his package when he pressed on.
I was confused. I felt guilty for liking the closeness. Did not like the kissing and pressing, but the liked attention and time spent. I felt it was “wrong”, based on what my parents taught me, what I learned from tv and school. Was latch key kid, when my grandparents were not around.
One incident, I was sleeping on the couch in my grandparents’ apartment. I was half asleep. My grandfather checked underneath my shorts and panties. I pretended I was asleep. The thing about this, is I don’t know if I was asleep or dreaming. I was scared. I doubt myself. And try to rethink it over and over, to make sure if it happen. It felt real. I question myself then.
One clear incident for sure was in the kitchen. My grandfather pinched my nipples over my t-shirt, laughing and making fun of me, when I was washing the dishes. I was around the age I was developing. I felt violated and ashamed of my developing body. These experiences are confusing to me. I doubt myself and have shame. This is with my grandfather. He died when I reached high school.
My grandmother was sweet and loving. I love her. One time I went to the near-by grocery market with her. I was in junior high or late elementary school. We bought a couple items. One of the items was a pornographic magazine. She told me it was for my grandfather. I knew the magazine was a strange thing to buy, when a grandchild was with her. I felt awkward when the items were rung up by the local cashier. I was embarrassed and shameful. Other than that incident, she has not blurred appropriate family lines in that sense. I wish she did not do that though. She has also past away.
I believe my uncle, my grandfather and grandmother, acted the way they did because of the culture or environment they came from. I am proud of my culture and ethnicity, but condemn the mentioned behaviors. That is not how we are suppose to act these days, in this society. The effects are damaging to me.
I have kept these secrets for many many many years. I secretly feel ashamed, guilty, dirty, embarrassed, angry towards mostly my dead grandfather and living uncle. I am at limbo.
Since I have confessed most of these to my parents, my mother tells me I speak too freely and they have given me too much freedom to express what is on my mind. One, they no longer give me freedom. I have freedom regardless of them.
My parents want me to stop speaking about it. My dad wants me to stop telling my dad how much a hate my uncle and would like my dad to stop playing chess with my uncle. My dad is obsessed with chess. I have been told by family members to get over it. It’s my demon that I want to release. My mom calls me a record player. I guilt them for not protecting or doing something about it when they did have an inkling about my uncle long time ago. I will put effort in stopping the guilt trips.
At one point, my uncle was caught doing the kiss tickle game with my sister. My uncle was banished from the house back then. He never said sorry to my sister and I. After a couple years, he was back playing chess with my dad. We just grew up knowing not to get too close to him.
Fast forward to present, I feel my hands are tide because in the police station parking lot, one night about a month ago, I called my best friend. I was about to finally begin closer with that past; and begin my present justice + move on. I had self doubt. My best friend advice me to tell my uncle’s daughters, my cousins. To give them a head’s up because I cared about them too. I had felt guilty growing up, knowing he could potentially behave this way to them. That was weighing.
I told one. She was crushed. The next day, she told me to do what I need to do to move on. But, she pleaded and pleaded though that this would mess up what is going on in her life. Her life has been real hard because school, work and family dynamics are already stressful and much too handle already.
I held off, again… I had already kept this a secret and lived. I don’t think I’m ready either, right now. I feel, that I think about this constantly, in and out of the activities of life. Life is a bit tricky right now, so doing it now isn’t good. I have to find a job and earn money for rent. I am living on hard-earned savings. I am a mess, emotionally. I am working on keeping my physical and mental at check. I feel at the edge. I am trying to find

This is for a college essay, and I’m looking for fluency, mechanics, grammatical errors, etc. I can’t print it and I know I tend to slack in proofreading when I’ve written and fully understand what I’m trying to talk about. Anyhow,
A pair of white lights, blinding, fixed on me. Sniffling, I made the decision, the curious decision not to wipe my eyes. Watery, my lips pulled into a pathetic quiver I brought my head up to look at the vehicle. It was also white, grayed by the darkness of the night for the place I’d chosen to stroll was oddly devoid of streetlamps. Without their comforting glow my heart raced as I focused on the white, only to turn my head and watch as they became red, my wordless plea ignored for the fourth or fifth time.
Today, I had decided somewhere along the line was my boiling point. The rising action in the least linear story (a Kurt Vonnegut-esque tale of dramatics and my being led by a surprising lack of personal knowledge) was fixed on this being the day where I would finally tell everyone about the building pressure within me. I’d say, confidently and eloquently with hand gestures that my former speech and debate team would be proud of, “My life is at a rough spot. I need help, and I don’t need you to understand but I need you to respect me and to listen.” It was true. I was having all the success of someone attempting to push a heavy object past a carpet and my stamina was exhausted. I was exhausted.
The life I’d lived was by no means simple. One usually gathered that when they asked where my mother was and I told them cheerfully that I didn’t know. My grandmother was her quasi replacement, though I saw her as a grandmother rather than any sort of mother figure. Ironically, I’d been more of a mother than she was, raising three siblings much younger than me for several years. Her sharp reprimanding hand and personal troubles ensured that things weren’t easy, but in retrospect it served as a huge distraction. It was like someone pinching you to distract from a mild and constant headache, cauliflower bruised skin a weathered reminder of its convenience. However, her constant presence and penchant for causing trouble inadvertently affected me that night, though I’d been living away from her for roughly seven years.
My father did not understand. I had not expected him to as I poured out my heart. I spoke of a non-congruency within my mind, of social isolation and awkwardness and physical confusion. My interest in medicine, two or three years running had led me to a surprising dead end, though I did find the terms a few times on the internet and in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (IV) but the conclusion was painful and I merely scoffed at the time.
I was not smiling, or doing anything that resembled it. Almost as I began my voice wavered dangerously, my eyes locked on his due to my training in speaking but constantly interrupted by blinking. I told him in a rushed way about the hours I spent alone at night thinking about life. Speaking slowly, I told him that I had personal image issues. They reflected in my faux nonchalant attitude about grades and in my interactions with others. I grinned a lot even though my teeth were never immaculate, so people had the general assumption that I’d achieved the average level of teenage happiness that comes with constant company, risqué choices, and the leeching lifestyle that many would dream of. I had company of a few constant friends, but hardly during the daytime outside of school. My niche was shrinking—my friends finding new friends in ways I was slightly numb to. I missed them actively, but was inactive, lethargic. I wanted so many things, but mostly happiness.