Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Ice-cream
I think I love ice-cream more than any other food in the world. I was 7. My mum took me food shopping just before Christmas; I remember it was a really cold day with frozen snow on the ground. It was weeks old snow, all dirty and dusty, but still with the smell of winter in the air. I was wearing warm clothes but had forgotten my gloves on the radiator at home and kept thinking I lost them and mum will again get mad at me yell at me and hit me. We stop at several shops and met different people my mum talked to, all I was thinking about were my gloves, panicking in my head. Suddenly this man approaches me and hands me a chocolate ice-cream globe on a cone, my mum giggles and approves with a head nod. My world was in colours again, had a smile as big as a house. My favourite thing in the world! CHOCOLATE ICE-CREAM! Yes, it was winter, and cold, and no one else ate ice-cream, but who cared? I must have done something good if my mum rewarded me with ice-cream. I was so focused on licking my ice globe didn’t even listed to the conversation, didn’t care..the man walked with us. Boy, I sure wish I had my gloves as my hands were freezing on the cone but I’m not giving up! I’m sure I won’t see another ice-cream until summer comes. I’m nearly finished; my mum nudges me to “thank the lovely man for the ice-cream”. I mumble a thank you. He kneels and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Then gives my mum a kiss on the cheek and wakes away. Mum meets a friend after a few more minutes and laughs loudly with her, talking with her very happy and showing her friend the almost finished ice-cream in my hands and says “See, he even thought of her!”.
By Mirabela Luca5 years ago in Psyche
The Truth About Behavior Health Floors.
I was 21. I wasn’t new to the process but this was a first for me. The double doors closed and locked as I watched my mother who had just traveled an hour and a half as fast as she could to ease me in. It didn’t matter. I cried out the tiny windows of the double locked doors as if this was it. This was how it was going to end. I would never come back from this. Next, I was wheeled to my room. White as a ghost the formalities blended together like that first time you feel grief when you lose a loved one for the first time. I sat in the exam room. I watched the needle go into my arm for a blood draw but I never felt a thing. Blank. I could feel my eyes swelling with tears that I didn’t understand. Who was I? What had my life come to that I was locked on this hospital floor unsafe to be alone? The rooms were cold. When did I get this bad? Why? I laid down on the hard mattress with blankets that felt and smelt like cardboard. All I could think about what the fact I had become a visitor in my own body, in my own brain. I closed my eyes and wished this to go away, forever.
By Emily Noonan-Phillips5 years ago in Psyche
PTSD
The darkness was healing. Not being able to see anything around me, being able to enter a state of imaginary beings and happy thoughts. Unicorns and rainbows, future goals and thrilling travels. As I’d get lost in my imaginary world, reality would creep in when I’d snap back by a pull or a tug or the haunting scent of drugs I despise till this day. An eight year old child. Who goes through that? I’d often find myself wondering.
By SomethingAnonymous5 years ago in Psyche
Making anxiety more bearable?
Are you wondering how to deal with anxiety? There are over 3 million cases of anxiety each year in the US alone and that excludes the rest of the world. And when I googled how many people in the world were diagnosed with anxiety what came up was 284 million people in 2017. That’s a lot of people, and some people aren’t diagnosed.
By Katie Vasquez5 years ago in Psyche
If you can go back in time.
I know. Is a very cliché question. If you can go back in time what would you change about yourself? I use to have this question in the back of my mind whenever I have scramble eggs and coffee. The coffee always remind me that I am older and the scrambles always remind me that I might have high cholesterol. This is one of the question that I personally feel like we need to ask ourselves at least once a month.
By Ruby Castro5 years ago in Psyche
I Am My Bipolar Diagnosis
I didn't choose the bipolar life, the bipolar life chose me. The new, hip thing to do in order to destroy stigma around illnesses, particularly mental illness, is to say, "I am NOT my diagnosis." It's an understandable thing to do. People don't want to be defined by just one aspect of who they are. I get that. And I'm cool with that. I'm down with what the kids are into these days.
By Chris Hearn5 years ago in Psyche
