Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Here's How I have Overcame My Depression by these 3 Steps?
In late 2020, I started to sense depression because I consumed too much time finding a job. This only got more serious when the pandemic circled, and I started to fall deep into the economic importance that this was going to have on the world. I found myself grappling with things like impulse and especially my mood. I was a lot more hostile for many months, but lately, things have been going a lot better. Today, I want to tell you how I could heal my depression, and it all comes down to three things.
By Vishnu Aravindhan5 years ago in Psyche
Scar
Scars. Such a touchy subject. It’s strange how some view those with scars as heroes until they discover they were self inflicted. As I look at the red marks covering my thighs, and those that rest upon my wrist, I am reminded of how strong I am. People say self harm scars make one weak. I feel the opposite. There was once a time when my mind and body would go numb and the only way to feel was to hurt myself. I had to bleed to know I was still alive. When I began to hurt inside, moving the hurt to the outside helped. The saying “stick and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is the biggest lie. Ever. I spent about 12 years of my life listening to my own blood talk me down. I began to believe the words that spewed from their mouths. My mind would spin and my entire atmosphere would darken. I was not worthy. I was the biggest mistake my parents ever made. I would never be successful. As the world grew lighter again, more scars appeared. My step mother once told me I was doing it wrong and if i wanted something to happen I should go deeper. My mind began to believe her words. I should have tried harder. I havent self harmed in 4 months and 2 days. That is 122 days clean. I’ve been dealing with this “addiction” since the age of 10. That's 5 whole years of scars collected among my body. Scars should not be a touchy subject. It needs to be talked about. I know how it feels to be alone. 5 years ago, summers were spent in hoodies and leggings. Nights were spent running my hand along to sections of my body that were inflamed. Days were spent resisting the urge to itch the fresh cuts due to fear of breaking them open. Green concealer and foundation dripped off my legs in the shower as I hoped to cover the bruises scattered along my legs. No one could know. I thought this was a secret that would go to the grave with me. I was waiting for the day where words could no longer affect me. When my conscience shut off. People began to notice. It was too hard to hide. When band aids were exposed and I could no longer pull it off as a small scrape. Scars were my only way to cry out for help. Most of middle school I was labelled as “the girl who cuts herself”. I was 5 months clean when that one was sprung upon. Right back to the beginning I went. The memory of my mothers eyes when I told her I was cutting is forever etched in my mind. My heart breaks when I think about that night. It was 2 in the morning. Friends played downstairs as she slept on the couch. She jolted awake as I sat next to her and cried and shaked. Her eyes began to sink. I hadn't seen her this way in years. For the first time in years, I was finally heard. Since this night, my mom and I have been talking about everything. Anytime I feel an emotion, no matter how strong, I tell mom. I’m doing the best I possibly can. Therapy sessions, medications, coping skills, all of it. I like to believe that I am proof. Proof that it gets better. Proof that there is light at the end of a dark dark tunnel. Proof that life is worth living. It gets better. At the end of the day, I don't think I’d ever want to remove my scars. They have become part of me. Part of my story.
By Claudia Azinger5 years ago in Psyche
Maslow's Hierarchy (of Suffering)
Ok, so we're going to start this one with a teachable moment here. In the world of psychology, there exists what is known as Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, and over the years since it was created it has been a successful tool in gauging what parts of a person's past are still lingering in the present, specifically in terms of what "needs" they currently have and what needs may not have been met when they were younger.
By Alicia Summers5 years ago in Psyche
Nature Saved Me From Myself
I must admit, I can understand why people dismiss mental health. To be honest, I was one of these people. Well until 2019, when I returned from my travels from Asia to London. For so many reasons, I felt the stress of this. Due for an operation, I was freaking out as I had never had surgery before. Not only that, but 3 days before I arrived back home, I had a motor vehicle accident that muddled my brain. To top it off, I was thrown right back into the chaos of London, which I have struggled with even in the calmest states of mind.
By Mystic Rebellion 💎5 years ago in Psyche
Fighting for my kids
It started 17 years ago. Around July, when my first baby was about 6 months old, I had enough of my abusive fiance. I planned a trip to go to my family's home for my sister's graduation and birthday party, and to stay there with my baby while he left. It may not have been the most up front way of getting away from him, but I was stuck where I had no family near me and only 1 friend who couldn't take me in. So I did what I had to do to get away.
By Wynette Richardson5 years ago in Psyche
Going “Back Home”
THE STORY I was 40-something. I walked across the threshold of the house I grew up in. It was . . . From the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man,” to Bon Jovi, who asked, “Who says you can’t go home?” humanity has ruminated on returning to our childhood homes.
By Donna L. Roberts, PhD (Psych Pstuff)5 years ago in Psyche
Once Lost & Now Reborn
How is it possible that you can go ahead in your life and not care about your first child. If things were different would you have changed anything? Would you have cared just a little about me if anything happened in my life. Did you think your life would’ve been any different if you didn't have me. Did you even want me in your life? Did you even think I wasn't meant to be in this world? Did you love me? As many times as you’ll tell me you love me, but it’s hard to believe. You were never there when the biggest struggle in my life happened, where I never got support for. As a child you never asked me how I felt or what was crossing my mind. I was just a kid. Did you ever see me scared? Did you ever tell me “sweetie its ok let's get out of here”. Did you ever realize my hurt? Why did you ever think that I never needed you. Did you ever think that I wasn't ever important to you. I'm just a child, I never got an addiction to anything.
By Ezra Colton 5 years ago in Psyche
People in my Life
Brian Mol was one of the first guys that I met when I broke my mom’s and my brother’s rules and crossed Franford Ave. He was in the old arcade that used to be on Trenton Ave right next to Frankford. Up until that point I always had a few friends but one best friend, and we were literally dorky loners, afraid of our own shadow. We went to the arcade for protection. We were all of 13 years old and some girls that my friend and I had known had made friends with older guys and asked them to beat us up. We were confined to the safety of Cumberland Street between Tulip and Memphis. We had heard, and told, all the stories of the gangs on the other side of Frankford Ave. and we had just become friends with Tommy Stierle so we had an in.
By James S. Carr5 years ago in Psyche
