anxiety
A look at anxiety in its many forms and manifestations; what is the nature of this specific pattern of extreme fear and worry?
How To Avoid Mobile Addiction
Smartphone addiction is harmful for anyone. Be it children or elders. On the one hand, where there is a change in the behavior of children due to excessive use of smartphones. On the other hand, it can also spoil the relationship between the couples. There are many reasons like lack of sleep, lack of time in personal relationships, etc. which give rise to this problem. If the smartphone is not used smartly, it can give rise to many types of stupidities.
By Mohd Altamash4 years ago in Psyche
It Calls You
There is something about the dark that calls us into it. Whether it is the itch to find out what is of the unknown even if we know not to touch or the itch to get out from whatever hides in the unknown depths of what we know of darkness. Because no one really knows what is in there; some believe that our demons hide there, others that evil lurks there to take over the curious, and some just try to avoid it while they know they will never escape it. But sometimes darkness likes to show us a glimpse of what its depths can give us. For instance, when the dark nights feel kind, it gives us stars. Big bright balls of all-consuming gas. To us, the small humans, stars are small, unreachable, beautiful, and one of the things that make darkness dangerously beautiful. Those perfect spheres can calm our fears just with a taste of their blinding brightness, even from afar, they fill us with warmth and it makes us feel safe. Stars are beautiful, yes, but stars have one job: lure us into the darkness. It makes us feel good, so we keep our minds busy until they fade and we are stuck in the middle of the dark depths wondering how we got there. A moment of quiet joy turns into quiet fear. We're stuck. Defenseless. Alone. Nothing will come for us. Our only chance is to wait. To wait for the darkness to fade into the morning light. They will tell you that it will come soon. In the blink of an eye. But darkness has the power to make time stop. An hour gone feels like a second when you are on your knees praying for the morning light to come. Because you think that is found to help. So, the dark hours drag on almost making at noise to let you know that it moves, but not as fast as you had liked. Our minds loud while we blame the stars. Blame them for luring us. For making us defenseless. For making us forget our beliefs on darkness. Because we knew that darkness was alluring for all the wrong reasons. Darkness seems to win every time. Or at least that is what our thoughts tell us in the dark. Because that is when it gets the loudest. Or maybe is that voice that whispers from nowhere. Because it is really everywhere. It mocks our fear and it savors our stupidity. We knew better. Yet the stars were beautiful, and they will forever be. We know that once light comes to save us, it will not last. It never does. We forget. It is practically a cycle. That is what we are good at. Dangerous cycles. Because we are human. We make mistakes, and sometimes we learn from them. Sometimes we do not. Because only humans stumble over the same rock twice. When it comes to darkness, I have lost count. Maybe over a million times? Who knows. At the end, Darkness is one of those things we forget to learn about. To remember its sting. The danger. No matter how many times we tell ourselves not to touch it, to hear it, to almost want it, not to believe the sense of calm the stars in it will bring, we will always get sucked in. We will always find ourselves stuck in our fear. We will always hope for light in the dark. We will always find ourselves in the dark. Because there is something in the dark that calls us into it.
By Daniela Anmen4 years ago in Psyche
How to stop living in the past
Forgetting the past: the keys to moving forward Being fully present, anticipating yourself in the future… For some, it’s complicated that they struggle to stop thinking about the past, whether to remember happy moments or delve into painful episodes, unhealed wounds. the problem? The inability to live today, free from the past, prevents them from developing their potential and moving forward in life. to analyze.
By Racha Kelly4 years ago in Psyche
How many students have anxiety?
If you're wondering, "How many students have anxiety?" Then you're not alone. Anxiety affects 21.9 percent of college students. And that number is only increasing. One recent study found that depression affected a third of college students. Anxiety can be crippling, causing a student to miss out on important assignments and exams, or drop out of the course altogether. Fortunately, there are ways to deal with the effects of anxiety.
By Irene Mitchell4 years ago in Psyche
The Trouble with Triggers
It started off simply enough; my boyfriend wanted to watch some shows together. Admittedly, I did not. Both of us are hermit-like, and very happy to each do our own thing in our own areas of the house, so when one of us wants to do something together, we both try to meet that need as best we can. Sometimes, though, it just doesn't happen. I considered telling him "not tonight" again, but he'd just ask nearly every day until we did, causing me both irritation and guilt. It's always a hurdle to get me into watching a show, complete with eye-rolling, a look of disdain, and possibly a low groan of annoyance.
By Megan Baker (Left Vocal in 2023)4 years ago in Psyche
[Act 3] A Dash Of Disillusion, As Anxiety Levels Peak Over 9000
Scene 1 (TW: Rape) The first month seemed to come and go as I'd said it would; naturally. But I wasn't a natural boy, and things were about to go off the rails quickly. With Juliet's consistent questioning of my love coupled with how hard I was trying, I wasn't sure what love meant to her. I wasn't sure who was in control of our relationship; us, or other people.
By The Passionate Autistic4 years ago in Psyche
The Monster Called Anxiety
I know what’s coming. Sitting on the couch struggling with my shoes, I feel him creep up behind me, his cold and clammy fingers trailing up my arms and wrapping around my throat. I start to choke on the lump that forms there, and ice suddenly seizes in my lungs, turning them into the heaviest of bricks. Slowly he pushes up against me, melting into my skin and looking up at me with bewildered eyes. It’s a ritual, really. I can’t leave the house without him. Standing up, I exhale and try to suck air in again because, to be honest, he’s heavy. I practically have to drag him as he clings to my back, his damp breath puffing against my neck. I wrap a jacket tightly around us, and I shiver under the pressure despite the extra weight. I can’t do this, I think to myself. They’ll see him, or worse, they’ll see me. Everyone’s gonna stare. I knew that because of my disability, I wouldn’t be able to escape prying eyes. I would be the main attraction in this grand circus of life, even if only for the moment. Attempting another deep breath, I hesitate at the threshold, momentarily considering kicking off my shoes and crawling back into bed. I know I can’t as I need to go grocery shopping, but the thought is nice. Sighing, I make sure he is hidden well before opening my door and stepping out into the blinding sunlight.
By Courtney Bartz4 years ago in Psyche
Why I Can't Relax
I Just Can't! Unless I'm sick, of course, and then I just sit around fretting about the things I need to do. The problem is, I am a very restless person: I cannot just sit and watch television. I have to be browsing on my phone (sorry, I know, I'm awful), draw, do a wordsearch, work on my online shop... If people talk about a new drama, or a Netflix series, I just nod politely until they change the subject. I'm not sure I even know what Netflix is! I just cannot commit to a series of hours where I have to sit still and concentrate. I'm too fidgety, and there are too many other things I could be doing (like writing this article!)
By Deborah Robinson4 years ago in Psyche
Hot Garbage
Man, sometimes; scratch that, a LOT of times I just want to give up. I read your stories and then read mine; garbage. I see your pictures and then I see mine; garbage. I see your art and then glance at mine *gags*. And these are the things I think I’m good at, f**k some days I even let myself think I’m great at. Well whatever, what has art ever done for me anyways?
By Tessa Dickinson4 years ago in Psyche
