Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Confronting Corporeality
As inevitably common as it is, death is not a comfortable subject. To think about the end of every memory, laugh, success, failure, and pain we experience on Earth seems almost unbearable. Regardless of faith, or its absence, we all accept that we will eventually leave the world we know and love behind. However, in the wake of each departure is a sign that we did live: a body.
By Noah Rodriguez5 years ago in Psyche
Peaks and Valleys
Sadie slammed the door to her room and collapsed on her bed, screaming in and punching her pillow. She felt helpless and in deep despair. After a few minutes, the tears came pouring out. They seemed endless. And then, just like that, they stopped. Sadie felt lighter and a sense of peace washed over her for the first time in months; perhaps years. At that moment, a sunbeam coming through her window caught her attention. It was shining on a little black notebook on her floor. Her mother had gotten it for her as a gift. She knew that Sadie was going through a hard time and thought that maybe writing out her feelings and struggles would help. Sadie didn’t like the idea at first, especially since her relationship with her mom was rather tumultuous at this point. But right now, she was desperate. And she also took it as a sign. So she picked up the notebook and began writing.
By Jennifer Weatherly5 years ago in Psyche
Sometimes, It's Not That Simple
Start writing...Everyone starts out, at least in the realm of creative minds, as a dreamer - we dream of being the writer, being the artist, aspiring to heights of those that inspire us. I was one of those dreamers; my childhood was a wonderland of inspiration, with inspiration flooding my young mind at every turn. I wanted to draw everything I saw, learn every song, write stories based on whatever irreverent cartoon had captured my attention that morning. This continued into my teens, and I constantly strove to fine-tune my talents for expressing the world through the eyes of an eternal explorer. I was eventually accepted into an accredited art school, where I discovered photography as my true passion in short order. Then the accident happened. I'll spare the graphic details of my near-miss with the hereafter(that's another story entirely), and jump to two weeks later - waking up in an intensive care unit, wrapped in bandages and still hearing the freight train roaring in my head with every minor twitch and spasm. It was a rough and long road to recovery, in which I had to re-learn practically every voluntary motor function from scratch. I had suffered a massive head injury, and as a result even the most elementary of daily movement was a lesson in willpower. Fast-forward yet another year - I had fully recovered, and aside from a permanent limp and some equilibrium issues, I was back to functioning with a semi-consistent level of normalcy. Or so I thought. It started with whatever process takes place, when the image in one's head is transferred to the artist's hand - it was like a firewall had been installed, to prevent the communication from happening. Try as I could, even the most fundamental aspects of graphic art was suddenly terrifyingly alien... So I panicked. I tore through every medium I knew, with the result being the same every time. My first passion, it would seem, had left me. I jumped back into photography, as that was something that had always come naturally -- and couldn't manage to remember even the most simple rules. Writing proved as equally elusive to me, with hours spent staring at my computer screen with no idea where to start. I felt betrayed by my own mind, abandoned by the only true comfort I have ever known. I plummeted into alcohol-assisted depression, and gave up on life. Then the platitudes and criticism started flowing from friends and family. "It'll come back to you, give it time!" "It's just art, I'm sure you can find a new hobby" "Have you tried just *doing* it? It's that simple, just start drawing or writing and it will come back eventually" That was just under a decade ago; only recently have I been able to dip my toes back into the world of writing, the 'simplest' of art mediums. It's taken three days and insane focus to write the 498 words that you have read to this point. Whatever happened that day on the train tracks, rewrote something in my brain that killed a part of who I am as an individual. It changed my personality, perspectives on life, everything about me on an intrinsic level - the most terrifying part, is that there was no amnesia involved. I am consciously aware of who I was before, and accordingly I spend most days feeling like I'm inhabiting someone else's body. I still struggle with chronic depression and anxiety, with every new interaction triggering a bout of Imposter Syndrome - if I'm not me, how am I supposed to know if you are you? It has effected every aspect of my existence, yet I still get up every morning and put on a mask of relative stability. Life used to be simple, carefree, and fun. Unfortunately, dearest reader, sometimes it's not that simple. Life can turn itself upside down in an instant, leaving you with nothing where everything stood just moments before. This isn't some sickly-sweet platitude or motivational speech, telling you "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE LOOK AT HOW I TURNED MY PITIFUL LIFE AROUND"; this is me, doing what it takes to regain some semblance of who I was before. Five days and countless cigarettes after starting this, we come to this point; if I captured your attention for a few moments and made Hunter S. Thompson roll over in his grave, then know that that means more to me than I probably realize. ~fin~
By Robert Donovan5 years ago in Psyche
Lost and Found
Who turned on the faucets? I can't turn off my eyes. My whole body is crying via sweat. I've decided to kill my old self with exercise. Tiredness and emptiness blanket my existence, thoughts move in and out of sight. I miss them still. Now the tissues on the floor around me have formed a half-circle reminding me that I am still alive. Vicks puffs are the best for my raw nose, and obsessive-compulsive has to be some sort of foreplay for life itself.
By Leah Hayes5 years ago in Psyche
I'm Afraid to Share My Story
My therapist and I were talking the other day... If you hang around me long enough, you'll learn that a LOT of my sentences start like that. Part of it might be that, aside from my partner and children, my therapist is one of the only people I talk to now that we have all been locked inside for the better part of a year.
By Rebecca Hansen5 years ago in Psyche
The Balancing Act
Acknowledgment The father of cognitive-behavioral therapy, Doctor Aaron Beck, does not get enough credit in modern times for his work. Many theorists and clinical psychologists have repurposed CBT Theory by putting a personal spin on the basic premise of the theory, which is, “If you change your thoughts, you change your world.” To that end, I want to dedicate this book to Dr. Aaron Beck to show my appreciation for his contribution to the field of psychology. Were it not for his teachings; I would not be as successful as I am today working in behavioral health and addiction treatment.
By Dejaye Botkin5 years ago in Psyche
Social Media: Friend or Enemy?
Written By: Kevin Gabeci - February 23, 2021 Since the beginning of Social Media, most people have had a platform where they can express themselves. Now that Social Media is at its peak and a question is raised, are people's opinions free anymore, or has social media corrupted them? Lately, we have seen a lot of different situations regarding social media, people expressing themselves, and considering these expressions as free thought.
By SNROCINUTAF5 years ago in Psyche
A letter to to the Emotional Self
To Emotional Self, Also referred to as Sensitive Self, Temperamental Self, and Crazy Self. You have been told all of your life that your emotions are too big, too often, and take up too much space. You were told that you simply could not handle any criticism or rejection, and that you gave everyone around you whiplash from going so easily between one emotion to the next. Someone once even told you that there could be no reason for so many emotions, and that you simply must have been crying to manipulate them. You believed that there was something fundamentally wrong with you, like there was something broken inside you, spewing out emotions through the cracks in your seams.
By Mariah Faye5 years ago in Psyche
5 Ways I Overcome My Anxiety Every Day
I could feel that familiar feeling. As I got jittery, my mind wandered uncontrollably. I reached out, grasping at anything I could hold on to, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment. I felt closed in, like the walls were suffocating me, pinning me down with no ability to move. Yes, I knew this feeling all too well. It was my anxiety, greeting me at the door.
By B. Mapenzi5 years ago in Psyche
