Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Searching for Hope
The Accusation After getting married, I was able to get into The Art Institute International in Lenexa, Kansas. We ended up moving to Kansas City, Missouri to be closer to the school so I could attend classes much easier. However, that meant living with Cory’s parents and grandmother who was staying with the in-laws at the same time, too.
By Janice Page7 years ago in Psyche
Manic Happiness
Mania is a phase of Bipolar Disorder characterized by an abnormally heightened mood, hyperactivity, and a reduced need for sleep. Basically, I feel confident, energized, and ready to take on the world, with barely any sleep. I feel genuinely happy, and excited for life. Which is a huge deal considering the depressive lows of Bipolar Disorder, are very low. When I am low, I am insecure, and miserable. I have no confidence, no energy, and all I want to do is sleep. It’s no wonder that when I am Manic, I get irritated when people tell me to take my medicines. When I am on my medicine, I don’t feel low, but I am nowhere near the "high" that mania gives me. I’m in what feels like a lull. Almost emotionless, and numb. Scared that if I feel too happy, Mania is coming. Scared that if I feel too depressed, that the depressive low is coming. It’s an uneasy feeling to have.
By Rachel Bonneval7 years ago in Psyche
Stop Sexual Abuse
Family, are supposed to be people that love you, care for you, and protect you. I can't really say that for my family. Well, let me be more specific, my mothers side of the family. I grew up living a lie in my own household. I was sexually abused by my own grandfather, lied to by my own family, and forced to live a lie for 19 years.
By Arleen Delgado7 years ago in Psyche
Bipolar Psychosis
I do not recall a time in my life when my emotions were "norma.l" My moods have always ranged from empty, hopeless, isolated to excited, untouchable, and godlike. I couldn't feel pain that I caused to myself or others. I had no remorse, I was apathetic, I couldn't understand others' tribulations. Yet, in the back of my mind, in my soul... I understood others and I was sympathetic to their cries of exhaustion that I was trusted to hear. But I did not care emotionally because of my own internal grief.
By Mary Prough7 years ago in Psyche
Unbecoming The First Teacher
My icy fade. The window is black. The star's light gaze is to save me from the pain of going insane in aloneness. No level of awokeness can restore me to eternal bliss amidst the suffering and the plight amongst the addict generation. I sink, I sink, I sink into the affirmation of the 3 c's. I didn't cause it. I can't control it. I can't cure it.
By Kels Finex7 years ago in Psyche
Escapism and Mental Health
Escapism is defined by Merriam-Webster as "habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine," in this, we mean avoiding reality by submerging ourselves in a fictional world. They are many ways to do this, many forms of "imaginative activities" for some people it's video games, for others books, or television, movies, fanfiction, role-playing games, the list goes on. The one thing they have in common is that they take us out of our own lives and allow us to explore someone else's.
By Megan Paul7 years ago in Psyche
Doors
Chairs. Nothing but rows, upon rows of brown hospital recliners, filled with men in a zombie like state. Some were covered with the traditional white, and very uncomfortable hospital blankets, while others just sat there staring at the small flat screen television. The T.V. was inside of a brown wooden box, with a glass front, that I would later find out was to keep them from breaking the television, and using it as a weapon. This room was dark, even though it was barely past noon, and it felt cold, unusually cold, even for a hospital.
By Rachel Bonneval7 years ago in Psyche
Waking up with Depression
I open eyes, slowly. Another day here, and already I can tell it’s going to be hard. I can tell it’s going to be hard by the ache that rests in my chest. By the tightness that settles in my lungs. And mostly by the lack of feeling anything. I can tell that today is going to be long and exhausting. I already want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to look in the mirror, and I definitely don’t want to hear my minds automatic self loathing response to seeing my reflection. But I push the blankets back anyway, slide my feet to the floor, and slowly sit up, my head immediately falling into my hands, my elbows on my knees. I sit there for a few minutes, convincing myself that I can do this. I stand up, and shakily walk to the bathroom. I refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t let the thoughts that are constantly racing through my mind take over, not this early. I go through my daily morning routine, sans mirror. I walk out the front door. I pause for a moment, feeling the sun on my face, in the chilly October air. I get in my car, and drive to work, music blaring, and feel the ebb of a headache beginning to take hold. I try to keep the horrible thoughts at bay, as they begin telling me that I’m no good, that I’m going to mess up, that someone is going to die because of me. I pull into the parking lot, walk into the building, up 17 stairs, turn, and up 9 more. Through a total of 4 key carded doors. I clock in, sit down at my console, log into what seems like a million screens. Put my headset on. Go ready. I pop a few Tylenol, even though they never work anymore. The first call drops in my ear. I handle it, hang up, and it’s nothing but thoughts about how I could have handled it better. This process is repeated for the next 12 hours, with my headache, along with those self loathing thoughts, slowly getting worse with each call. The worse the call, the worse the thoughts are. At the end of my shift, I leave, feeling like I have failed. I feel like I have failed my callers, and my coworkers, both who depend on me to do my absolute best one hundred percent of the time. I drive home, taking the long way; the longest and most round about way I have yet to find. Thinking about all the people I have let down, all the people I have yet to let down, I hold the tears in. As I pull into my driveway, my tears dry, and my eyes brighten at the thought of my dog. She’s always happy to see me. I’m greeted by her at the door, jumping all over me, and howling like she always does. I go to my bathroom, shower, finish my bedtime routine, again, sans mirror. I don’t want the bad thoughts to be the last ones in my mind before I fall asleep. I crawl into bed, and my amazing little puppy burrows into my back, I close my eyes. I think about my day, and as I do, I try to remain as objective as possible. It’s something that I am still working on. I realize that my day has not been as bad as my thoughts would lead me to believe. That I have not failed like I thought I had. And the last thought I have before I drift off to dreamless sleep is, “You are enough.”
By Brookelyn Schuler7 years ago in Psyche
Living with PTSD
Post traumatic Stress Disorder, or more commonly known as PTSD. What is PTSD? Sure there are medical definitions, psychology books that cover it, articles that try to explain it and books that have been written about it. However, what does it mean for the thousands who live with it day in and day out?
By Tiffany Myrick7 years ago in Psyche
Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder
Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder is on the OCD spectrum but at the same time, it is a separate personality issue. Obsessive-compulsive people are, well, obsessed, with things like maintaining orderliness, perfectionism and controlling all situations they imagine they have control over. They are not the most open people as that takes a toll on them because they have difficulty on which tasks are a priority. They get stuck on the best way to do a task. They get angry when receiving poor restaurant service but do not complain to a manager, but instead, they subtly wonder what kind of tip to leave.
By Iria Vasquez-Paez7 years ago in Psyche
