coping

Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.

My Self-Care is Taking Care of My Family
“Self-care.” That’s a hot topic here in 2022. I just heard someone say it on a commercial during the Pelicans/Bulls games I’m watching. It’s funny how I get ideas for a new blog simply by hearing a phrase or seeing a commercial.
By The Mouthy Renegade Writer3 years ago in Psyche
Pick Up A New Hobby To Help Improve Your Mental Health
A fantastic technique to help with enhancing your general mental health and well-being is by taking up a new pastime. There are many benefits to having a hobby, but for many people, the health advantages rank first. Hobbies come in a variety of sizes and shapes. They could be artistic, academic, physical, or simply unwinding. Despite the fact that it's not always easy to find spare time during the day, maintaining good mental health can be made easier by the many various activities and hobbies we can incorporate into our everyday life. However, during these rare moments when you are free from your regular responsibilities, you may have the chance to engage in things that you actually like. A hobby is more than just something you do for yourself; it's something you put time and effort into because it makes you happy and sparks your interests.
By Les Morgan3 years ago in Psyche
Crip Religion
In times of trouble, we often look to religion as a source of calm. Whether it be asking for prayers, attending services, or simply being in the presence of others who share our worldview, it can be a huge relief for anxiety about the future. When I developed Chronic Fatigue Syndrome after a COVID infection, I looked to my own church community for comfort. What I found there was anything but comforting.
By Zee Byrd3 years ago in Psyche
Just Another Visit
It was late September when I was surprised by one of his spontaneous visits; I had been practicing hurdles and 200-meter sprints with my track coach after school with my teammates. Some of my friends were smiling and their eyes twinkled as they looked past my shoulders, curious I spun around.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Psyche
To Heal
I'm coming to realise now that the hardest part of a childhood filled with mental unrest, hospital stays and therapy, is healing.
By M. Edwards3 years ago in Psyche
The Purpose
As luck would have it I died three days later. “You again, so soon? That’s unexpected. Did you remember to bring a story for me?” I was perplexed. “Why are you surprised? You are God, don’t you know everything? Surely you must have known when we last talked that I would be with you shortly.” “I’m afraid not.” God replied. “It’s that free will thing again. Once that gift was given I lost my ability to see the future of all men. I don’t regret it for a second. Knowing the future isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There is no surprise that way. Life without surprise is a lot like vanilla ice cream. It’s still good but it’s awfully plain”. I chuckled softly to myself. It seemed that God was as capable of a bad metaphor as I was. For some reason this brought me great comfort. The residual fear I had been feeling at standing dead in the presence of my creator evaporated in an instant. “I don’t have a story per se, but I do have something I’d like to say to you. It’s probably more accurate to say I have some things I’d like to ask you about?”
By Everyday Junglist3 years ago in Psyche
The Purpose
When God revealed himself to me and confirmed that there was a purpose to each persons’ existence I was elated. All of us were put on this earth to accomplish a specific goal. To fulfill our destiny all we need do was complete this God given task in the place and time allotted for us. I had struggled for so many years with the question of meaning in my life but now had been given the ultimate gift, the knowledge that life is not just some random series of chaotic events unfolding around us in space and time over which we have no control. Rather, our fate was predetermined by God. We would spend all of our days constantly striving to complete the objective God had planned for us from the moment of our birth. Nothing was meaningless. Each day we moved closer to fulfilling our true purpose.
By Everyday Junglist3 years ago in Psyche
I Don’t Want To Be Crazy Anymore
Crazy. It’s an ugly word. No doubt, many will chastise me for using it. Let them come. I’m not describing someone else. I’m not describing mental illness. Crazy is how I feel, and no other word comes close.
By Scott Ninneman3 years ago in Psyche
Is anybody out there?
Why do we write? Why do we do anything? What is the point? Does anyone even care? I used to think it mattered. What I did. What I said. What I contributed to society.
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)3 years ago in Psyche
O, Sweet Solitude
What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlonely being alone can be. (Ellen Burstyn) In his book Borstal Boy, Brendan Behan gives a stark indication of how unpleasant enforced solitude can be for some. Alone in his cell inside Liverpool’s Walton Jail, Behan hears activity outside; keys jangling and doors being banged shut. He hopes someone will come into his own cell, stating;
By Joe Young3 years ago in Psyche
Grief Is Funny Like That
I never expected him to actually finish anything. He was always leaving. I always picture him with a suitcase in his hand. Sometimes I wonder what he would look like now. When I close my eyes I still see his smile and I swear I could smell him, Well him before the shooting. I dream of him sometimes and he's smiling and walking toward me and then I wake up. I wake up happy then reality sets in. For a long time, I wasn't able to talk about it. Even thinking about his death made me sick to my stomach. Sometimes thinking about it still makes me sick to my stomach almost nine years later. I thought that I would be less traumatized by it after all of these years but I'm not. I'm still that traumatized 17-year-old who just lost her best friend to gun violence. Things can change in a heartbeat. If we didn't walk down that street at that time he would still be here. I would still have my best friend here. But I can't change that. It took me years to stop blaming myself. Somedays I still blame myself or I blame God. Not the actual person who murdered him.
By Nat 3 years ago in Psyche
Being Me
Being Unique & Always “the Other” Born in a refugee camp following WW2 to parents fleeing from Lithuania just ahead of Stalin's army, I have always been the outsider, the foreigner, the stranger. Till 18, I didn’t even qualify for the citizenship of any country. Truly an outsider.
By Vytas Stoskus3 years ago in Psyche