Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Who Needs a Therapist When (Pt. 11)
I have been meaning to make myself a coffee for about two hours now. Last time I did this it was 6 PM and before I found myself making a coffee it was obviously too late to drink. Yesterday I really intended to make lunch. I was hungry. Food needed to happen. But it was still almost 4:30 before I remembered to make lunch.
By Haybitch Abersnatchy7 years ago in Psyche
Wahalalalfia (Pt. 6)
I'm bored and hungry right now, after taking a break after doing some radio work. I may get this job. Who knows. I’ll make some food in a minute. Now, I’m talking to someone on an app on which we talk about what goes on in our heads. There are many Wahalalafians out there! Of course, reader, I’m not going to tell their names for privacy.)
By Marie Osuamoh7 years ago in Psyche
Changes
Anxiously, I paced back and forth in my den. I am distracted by a painting on the wall that I had painted years ago. Thinking how could I forget about me, and my family, and sit in the dark for so many years. Anxiety had taken all of the fun from my life. Every panic attack I struggle with day by day. My body shakes with fear and guilt. I question myself. "Why does this happen?" I decided everyday open the curtains up little by little and see the light. I need to fight. I need to be the person I use to be. Yes! Yes! Yes! But it's always no. That's what I always say, but will I be able to do it today? I stared at the curtains and lit another cigarette. I'm really contemplating what to do. Stop thinking and just open it, just a little crack. All of this is going through my head as I take another puff. I scream, "Stop it brain, just shut the hell up!" I'm tired now in a fight with myself. I left the room with my cigarette smoking in the ashtray. My body is shaking. Where is my medicine? I need to take it. My hands are fidgeting around in my purse. Finally, I find it without pouring everything out on the bed. OK, now I have to wait for a few minutes and I will stop shaking. I need to occupy my mind with something—anything. I could do laundry, but then I would have to wait for it to wash. And put it in the dryer. I could do the dishes, but everything is clean. I don't remember the last time I ate. I slipped down the wall, wrapping my arms around my head. I give up! I'm crying! I can't deal with my runaway mind. I look up and see a little mouse hiding under the hallway table. I sit and stare at it for a few minutes. Then it runs away. I think great, now my already falling apart house is infested with mice. The lights start to flicker. They are on the walls. I lay on the floor with my ear against the wall. I can hear you little bastards. I go to the kitchen and see if I can find some poison. All of my cabinets are filled with mouse poop. I gasped and cried at the sight. Looking down at the stove, more poop. All of my cereal ruined. Now, what do I do? I have no poison. And I have no car. It broke down two weeks ago. I run to get the broom and bleach. I swept everything out of my cabinets on to the floor. I filled the sink full of bleach and started cleaning. The lights are flickering again. Oh my gosh, the mice are in the walls eating the wires. How can I fix this? I'm all by myself. I have no family. I have no friends. I have the very little money that is my disability check. In the middle of bleach, I throw down my sponge and rip off my gloves. Puddles of bleach water with mouse poop floating around me. I run to the front door. Holding the doorknob, wanting to set me free. It's a struggle with the panic of the sunlight and the safety in the dark, but my dark sanctuary has been invaded by creatures. I have to think!!! Make my mind work. It's hard to concentrate on one thing. I still think about the laundry. I still think about how a warm bath will calm me down, but this will not fix the mouse poop floating in a river of bleach. Mashed potatoes flack cereal, taco seasoning, and bags of dry beans. I'm crying again holding the doorknob. "I need help," I mumble!!!! God, I pray for your help. By now my medicine has kicked in and I go upstairs and lay down, not looking forward to tomorrow.
By Lori Dickson7 years ago in Psyche
Wahalalafia (Pt. 4)
So Wahalalafia really has taken shape today. I went for a job interview as a radio presenter at a Christian radio station, but my Dad went into the hospital. All I know is that at the moment I do feel vulnerable, but a strange feeling of optimism.
By Marie Osuamoh7 years ago in Psyche
Suffering from Depression and Anxiety
I suffer from depression and anxiety (D&A). According to my mother, it has been life long. Until about two months ago, I had no recollection of suffering from either when I was a child, but then I ran into the mother of a childhood friend. She told me that as a child when I slept over at their house, I would always wake up in the middle of the night feeling sick, unable to sleep and wanting to go home. I can remember doing this only twice, but apparently, it was a regular thing.
By Daryn Pitonti7 years ago in Psyche
Losing My Father at the Age of 25
About a week ago, my father committed suicide. He had been struggling with Depression and Post Traumatic Stress for longer than I’ve been alive, and he’d attempted it before, a few times. Still, it was a shock, a sudden, unexpected nightmare. And I’m still hoping that any day now, I’ll wake up.
By Megan Paul7 years ago in Psyche
How Therapy Could Change Your Life
Substance abuse is something many people struggle with. It is all too easy to get started and far harder to stop and go back. For some people, beating a substance abuse addiction can seem hopeless, but if that’s you, you should know that you’re not alone. There is help available, and the therapy you get at a treatment center can truly change your life.
By Claire Peters7 years ago in Psyche
