Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Folie à Deux
My baby sister and I are close. The closest, really. The sister bond is a unique one anyhow. But when you fortify that bond with childhood trauma you survived together nothing can break it. In fact, I often tell people that my bond with Brittany is more like a mother/daughter bond because I was the one who kept us alive several times in life when we may have died otherwise.
By Nichole Martin5 years ago in Psyche
The battle of overcoming my eating disorder.
When I was little, I had a normal, awesome childhood. I was always running around, playing with my brother and just doing what kids do. When I got older, it was like overnight, that I noticed my thighs were thicker, my stomach had some extra weight on it and I thought to myself, "How did this happen." I wasn't upset about it, until everyone around me started talking about my weight. Telling me I was too pretty to weigh so much, that for a lady my thighs were too big and one summer I still remember the day I was told my legs were too big to be wearing shorts.
By Honeybee Articles5 years ago in Psyche
Wonder
Do you know what I wonder on most days? And I’m not saying this to alarm anyone or for attention, and no, I’m not suicidal. I’ m just curious what it feels like to die. What chai of events it would release, if it would be marked as a point in the universe, spark something beautiful to happen? Sometimes I’m so eager to find out, that I have to force myself to not take those two, three steps into the road flooding with cars, just imagine what the impact would feel like, what would my brain, body and response be like… I guess it would hurt, that part we wall know but what after that? Would I become a shooting start in the night sky? Would I be over and around my loved one? Watch over the, even see them? Or would I be reincarnated into an animal or another human being in our current, past, or future earth? It is interesting to wonder. However much I wonder I guess I could never go through with it, my body will physically never let me do it, my mind has this auto play of collections of images and videos of my little cousins (not so little anymore, ah they grow up so fast), my partner, my family and it doesn’t give up until I retract myself from “the danger”.
By Sandra Wilberforce5 years ago in Psyche
Living like I do
Living like I do (out of my car) is a very humbling experience. It teaches me a lot about what to be grateful for. Who knew it was going to be so long for me to ever get stable. "Ever" as in, not yet. I have been unstable staying anywhere accept anything that is my own for the last 10 years. A couple of years I lived with my ex and his family and with numerous break ups I stayed in a few "motels", not "hotels", (note the difference). I consider my life disgusting and many would agree. Homelessness is not accepted by I believe the majority of those so fortunate not to be without a roof of their own over their head.
By Heather Bliss5 years ago in Psyche
Support In Recovery From Addiction
To “support” means assisting someone currently or going to help someone in the future if they become in need. Most of the time the supports are a good friend, a family member or any individual you can rely on and they will hold you accountable for maintaining your health and recovery. In recovery everyone talks about needing and having a support network and the importance of not going at life alone and not isolating.
By Valerie formicola5 years ago in Psyche
my journey
hi, i’m Joanna. over two years ago, while struggling with bouts of depression and a general discontentment with where i was in life, i decided to start writing poetry again (after many years of not writing anything) i didn’t know exactly what it was that i needed besides a creative outlet, so i told no one about the account and began posting anonymously. sharing my poetry with people in the past always felt a little nerve-wracking, like i was baring my soul. it left me feeling exposed and i wasn’t a fan of that feeling. however, my favorite english teacher and my creative writing professor in college praised me for my ability, and often shared my writing with the class. sometimes it’s nice to have an audience. what would i even call the account? well, i started writing haikus in school, so i dug out an old one from college, the last line being “i just hold the pen” yeah, that will work! i wasn’t aware of what my poetry account would actually take the form of, much more than a creative outlet.
By ijustholdthepen5 years ago in Psyche
The Day My Life Changed
I woke up to my alarm going off, it was 7:30am on December 23. I rolled over and contemplated not getting out of bed. It was dark and cold, I didn’t want any part of the day. Begrudgingly I got up and started getting ready for my day. I walked out into the living room where my friend was half awake. “I don’t want to go to work. I’d rather stay home and not brave the cold.” I complained to Jon as I poured myself a bowl of cereal. Jon sat up, “I know but you have to go. I’ll pick you up and we can go get some dinner afterwards.” I finished eating my breakfast and went to shower. I had no motivation, I had a slight sick feeling, but knew it wasn’t enough to miss work for. “I’m about to leave, by chance could I get a ride so I don’t have to be in the cold?” I called to Jon as I finished getting dressed in my room. “I would but we have to save the gas that’s in the car, and I’m not quite awake enough. I’ll pick you up at 6 and we’ll go to dinner, I love you.” Jon replied I smiled and told Jon, “I know, I love you too. I’ll see you later.” I walked out the door and went to wait on my bus. I stood there absentmindedly watching people walk by the pizzeria across the street, and others walking in and out of the gas station on the other corner while thinking to myself. “Cold weather is an abomination to society to society,” I said to myself. The bus pulled up and I made my way to work. After I had only been there for about a half hour, I noticed my phone continued to vibrate. I worked in a call center and it was a big rule not to pull our phones out for any reason. I excused myself and saw that Jon’s ex had called me ten times in the last five minutes. They had a daughter together, so I thought maybe she needed help with something, or Jon was asleep and not picking up his phone. “Have you heard from Jon?” she asked in hysteria when I answered. “He isn’t answering my calls, and we were supposed to meet up. This isn’t like him!” “I’m sure he’s probably asleep and his phone is on silent or vibrate, I only left home about an hour ago, and he was still tired.” I told Abby, trying to reassure her, but I was scared; I knew she was telling the truth, he always answers his phone, especially for her. “If you think it’s that important, I will leave and go home and check on him.” I said to her, hoping surely she wouldn’t make me leave work for nothing. “I plan to meet you there, I need your address, and I’m also sending officers there.” Abby stated. Taking back in disbelief, I hung up and texted her my address. I went to let my supervisor know that I was having a possible emergency at home, but would be back in a short time. My coworker offered to give me a ride as it would have taken far less time, I gratefully accepted. I got to my home and noticed there were officers outside by Jon’s car, but they were just standing and talking to each other, so I ignored them and continued inside. I unlocked the door and noticed his keys and shoes by the door. I called out and poked my head into my room, but he was nowhere. I went back outside and approached the officers about why they were there. “We are just doing a welfare check on the apartment back here,” the officer pointed behind him, “But nobody is home so I don’t think you have to worry about anything, ma’am.” I thanked them and went back inside. At this point I didn’t know where Abby or Jon were, until I noticed my bathroom light on. I opened the door and found Jon sitting on the toilet, pale and not breathing. I rushed over to him and started calling out and trying to wake him up. I called 911, they told me I needed to get him down and perform CPR. So I did, I pulled and tugged until I was able to get him lying on the ground and start applying pressure to his chest. “He’s trying to breathe!” I shouted to the operator when I heard him exhale, but it was a strange sound. Paramedics and police officers swarmed my apartment in less than 2 minutes, but it felt like hours. They sent me outside so I could stay out of their way. Abby and Jon’s stepmother were outside waiting. We stood there and waited as men trudged in and out of my apartment, I hadn’t grabbed a coat, but I didn’t feel very cold anymore. I was confused, angry, and was planning all the things I was going to say to Jon when they got done with him. An officer approached me, “After the coroner gets here and clears the scene you’ll be able to go back inside.” Time stood still in that moment, I couldn’t think, did this guy just say coroner? I suppose I must have said it out loud. “Yes ma’am, he’s dead, why else would we need one?” as he looked at me, with a face full of ugly judgement. I collapsed to the ground. In that moment I realized Jon had overdosed, he died, I was the first one on the scene trying to save him. I was the one that called, I had to have been responsible or that I gave it to him or was a part of it. The officer’s expression hurt me to my core. Jon’s stepmother explained to the officer that I was a new friend and wasn’t aware of the types of problems Jon faced. The officer looked at me apologetically and walked away. This particular memory is one I’ll always hold close to me. It doesn’t make me happy, but I know it’s a big part of who I am today. I came into a sudden realization with how real this problem was with our country. I decided that I wanted to go to school and major in Human Services, and focus on helping people like Jon. He wasn’t safe to get away from his addiction, and I want to establish a sober living home for addicts who want to quit. Every day I will fight for the addict to become the person they once were, I want to save others from the same fate Jon and millions of others have suffered.
By Amara Philebaum5 years ago in Psyche
