Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Psyche.

What Happens When You Choose Recovery
I was diagnosed with an eating disorder at 15, I sat in the office of a nutritionist who my pediatrician had recommended. I heard her talking but I wasn't paying much attention, it was all a blur to me. I continued to see her and a therapist for a week or two and then they recommended more treatment because I didn't seem to want to get better. I soon was in the waiting room of a small eating disorder clinic with my parents, it was the day before Thanksgiving and I was missing school that day to learn about our treatment options. I met with a lady who told me she was a clinician and that she thought I should start PHP, PHP is a partial hospitalization program. I didn't realize it at the time but this meant I would be missing the next five weeks of school. I was resistant and did everything I could to skip meals and to use behaviors. The week before Christmas my parents and therapist were talking of sending me to a residential program but our insurance refused to cover it, I continued in the day program for a few more weeks. Everyone seemed to think I was getting better but sadly I was slowly declining, mentally and physically. I tried as hard so I could to get better, My parents did the same, all they wanted was for me to get better. My eating disorder became stronger and I ended up in the hospital. The next year consisted of me in many different levels of care. I eventually discharged and went home and was just seeing my therapist and nutritionist at the time. I was volunteering in a daycare at this time and one night, as we were closing down for the night, I started to feel really odd. It's hard to explain how I was feeling, all I can say is that it was a classic sign of dehydration. I went home and my mom called the doctor who told my mom to go to a children's hospital an hour away. I sat in the room as doctors took my blood and heart rate, I was so out of it that all I remember from that night is falling asleep and waking up and hearing a nurse tell my dad my heart rate was way too high and that I was extremely dehydrated. I broke down crying and told my dad I wasn't getting better and I needed more help, my dad looked at me and told me he would do everything he could to help me get better. This was the point when I knew I needed to choose recovery because I didn't want to die. I went out of state for treatment and my parents tried to visit me every week. I hated it there so much but also knew I needed to be there, I needed to get better. I have many slip ups and eventually started eating foods I hadn't eaten in years and found new ways to cope. We did yoga twice a week and went on weekend outings. I started to realize that maybe there is good in the world and that recovery is worth it. Now, this is a little background in how I chose recovery but the thing is many people don't talk about what recovery is actually like. I am not going to tell you recovery is all sunshine and rainbows because it's not. It sucks and it will be the hardest thing you have ever done. I used to sit in nutrition appointments screaming and trying to convince everyone I was okay and that wasn't the reality, I used to break down and cry because I wasn't allowed in my room after dinner, and I would have awful fights with my parents over me wanting to eat the same things for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I still sit in therapy and cry because it's hard. Recovery isn't done overnight, you have to choose every day to stay in recovery, you may never get to full recovery and that is okay. I can happily say I eat what want, I go out to eat with friends, and I am going to school for psychology so one day I can help people. I will tell you I still have days where I don't eat as much as I should because I truly don't feel good and I know I can't do that every day and I still try to eat even when I'm sick because skipping a meal for me fuels my disorder no matter how far I am into my recovery. The thing that is hardest for me is self-love, I don't love my body and I can tell you I'm working on loving it. I'm working on how I'll remind myself to eat in college, and how I'll continue to choose recovery even when I'm all alone in college. You need to choose recovery for you because if you choose to recover for someone else it won't work, trust me I have tried it. Recovery is hard but it is also one of the best things you can ever do.
By Gabby8 years ago in Psyche
A Funny Title for a Depressing Story
I was born in October 6, 1999 and raised in Long Beach, California. I've lived a moderate life with a few ups and downs and had a great family who loved me. I may have been loved, but I was isolated, put down by my ex-step-father, and humiliated by classmates. The reason I bring all of this up is because it left a metal and emotional scar that I have to carry. I am now 18 and to this day I still carry this burden that was laid upon me.On July 1, 2018, I came to New Braunfels, Texas to visit my family for the summer; but I also came to Texas to get away from everything that I deal with everyday back in Long Beach. It's not that I dislike my family and friends; it's just that it's too much to handle.
By Angel Tapia8 years ago in Psyche
Living Life with Social Anxiety
Social anxiety is like a fear of interacting with other people and, because that’s a major part of life, it bleeds into each part of your life. People who have social anxiety may not even know they have it because they may seem to just be shy or awkward. I know I certainly thought I was shy, maybe slightly socially inept but I just thought I would grow out of it. However, when I turned 21, I felt it was getting worse. Maybe I was stressed. Maybe I felt out of control. Maybe there was something wrong with me.
By X M8 years ago in Psyche
10 Actions to Take to Make You Stop Hating Life
The oh so familiar dark cloud had taken its place over your head recently, and you want to know how to stop hating life. But where do you begin, when you feel so hopeless in every aspect of your life? First, remember that you are not alone in this pain.
By Kelsey Lange8 years ago in Psyche
What Anxiety Feels Like
Living with anxiety definitely messed up my life. For those who (luckily) don't know this old friend of mine, I'll try to explain what it is and how it feels to live with it.
By Elena Dall'Agnese8 years ago in Psyche
Love Is All You Need
If you’re a little bit like me, you’ve gotten used to smoking weed with your friends. If you’re quite a bit like me, you and your friends have already moved on to harder stuff like cocaine or MDMA. You might even enjoy the edge that comes with as well; doing this stuff at a young age makes you feel more mature, assuming you probably started around 16 years old. Letting it become a part of your character is also a nice way to rise above a lot of the societal bullshit you’ll come across in either high school or college.
By Jon McGuigan8 years ago in Psyche
Mind
Our mind is a confusing place. A place where so many crazy things happen that we get overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with stress. Overwhelmed with anxiety. Overwhelmed with extracurriculars. Overwhelmed with school. Overwhelmed with work. Overwhelmed with so many things we can keep naming and naming so many things it’d go on forever. I’m here to tell you what I’m feeling and what I’m overwhelmed with.
By Jordan Hunter8 years ago in Psyche
No, Karen, I Am Not Lazy. I Am Depressed
Let me start off by telling you a little bit of my struggle with mental illness. It started when I was about 12 years old. I was in middle school. I didn't know much of anything about mental illness. All I knew was that I was sad a lot. I felt out of place constantly and I thought about wanting to die a lot. I thought it was normal, because hormonal preteen... These feelings continued throughout high school, and even got worse after the death of my father. I tried my hardest to hide it from everyone. I started self-harming. Then my senior year I swallowed my medicine cabinet. Didn't do anything other than make me sick. However, I did follow puking with mentioning what I did to my cousin on the old Myspace. She called my sister who called my mom. It got worse. Now, not only was I un-diagnosed depressed, and having panic attacks when I didn't even know what panic attacks were, I was also being told how selfish and disappointing I was by every member of my family. Nobody offered real help, just criticism. Fast forward to close to 10 years later, still suffering, still suicidal, still panicking, yet I had a boyfriend who knew more about mental health than me, and tried to help. Even to the point it was hurting his own mental health... He convinced me to get help when it got to the point he didn't want me cooking dinner when he wasn't home, because he didn't trust me with the knives and was scared he'd come home from work to find me with my wrists cut. So I saw a therapist, then a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Sever Major Depressive Disorder and General Anxiety. I was put on medication and life got a bit more manageable. For once, I felt a little bit more normal; I still had my lows, but fuck if life wasn't better.
By Kei Voorhees8 years ago in Psyche
Drowning
I stood by the water admiring the little ripples in it; even if there were a bunch of kids swimming in the small pool, it still looked beautiful. The noisiness made me feel so alive. I bent down and scooped up some water, splashing it in my face. It felt so nice in the blazing heat of the Arizona sun. I smiled, thinking how this is how it should always be, the cool water on my face in the warmth of the sun. It calmed me to think of this. As I was watching the water, I felt a kick in my back and I flew head first towards the water. I screamed. I felt as though no one could hear me. I couldn't swim. I shrieked in terror as my body smacked the water and I felt a painful sore in my body. The water no longer seemed so pretty as it did before. It was filled with grief and darkness. It was no longer blue and full of shimmer and sunshine, it was black and murky. I gasped for breath. The playful sound of children, the crashes of people splashing in the water, it was all gone. I closed my eyes knowing this could be the last of me, and let all that was before sink into my soul. I woke up in the hospital with my family surrounding me. They were all so worried about me and that made me stress. I took a deep breath and thought of the water to relieve myself, but I could no longer think of it the same way. For, it had pulled me into it's miserable arms and sank me. It drowned me.
By Michaela Weiss8 years ago in Psyche
The Darkness
Today I seriously thought about killing you. I contemplated. Premeditated murder. I can recall exactly how I felt, sitting in the car en route to Lawrence Memorial Hospital. It was roughly four in the morning; the quiet college town I call home still peacefully asleep and unaware of the turmoil I had been trying to pull myself out of for so long. This would be the second time I tried to take my own life.
By Ana Krasuski8 years ago in Psyche
Understanding the Problem
I grew up in an Irish Catholic family with parents who were divorced and angry and with siblings who tried their best to survive like me. I don't think I ever understood my siblings until I became older and realized that they were trying to get by just like I was. Ever since I was little I was seen by my family as being the "bright" one, the caring, happy, smiling one which set me apart from my siblings and mother who raised us. I remember running free in the grass barefoot collecting pretty rocks and playing with bugs and tiny creatures in the back woods.
By Cat Dempsey8 years ago in Psyche
The Hurricane Within Me
I'm lost again. My identity is nothing more than a floating existence with a name. I lie in bed and loathe myself, tears streaming down my face collecting on my pillow. I ask myself why repeatedly already knowing the answer but it never seems to quell the cycle. My chest is tight and a ceaseless pounding echos in my head. It's all my fault, it's always MY fault. If I could be anything but what I am it would've never happened like this. Prettier, smarter, thinner, fatter, ANYTHING but what I AM and it would've never happened like this. This has been my routine, this has been my daily endeavor. Any slight inconvenience, a loss of love or loved one, any change in stability or routine throws me into a whirlwind of lost. I try to hide it from the world but it shows, oh does it show. Living with borderline personality disorder is like living in a constant hurricane. The clouds churn and there is no clarity in sight. You try to ease the storm and for a moment, after enough alcohol, pills, the brief attention from another being, anything you can get your hands on, you might create an artificial eye of the storm. A temporary calm. But it's still there, forever lurking and after your eye passes you find you've only given it more power. The guilt and remorse of your effort to stop the chaos only fuels it and on you rage.
By Brittany 8 years ago in Psyche