coping
Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.
Pure Imagination
What better way is there to explain what writing means to me than to enter a writing contest? The voices in my head would have me believe there's a million better ways, a million different ways, to describe it but I struggle to shut them out. Before you ask, no these aren't actual voices. Well, I suppose they are to me but not in the sense of 'I'm crazy and the voices tell me to do things' that such a statement tends to bring to mind. Okay, they do tell me to do things but isn't that what part of being a writer is? Having all these voices in your head and knowing that you aren't crazy?
By Heather Miller5 years ago in Psyche
Dancing Through The Tears
Over the course of our lives, we may find ourselves experiencing instances of grief. This can be the result of many different events or situations. For example, you may grieve the end of your time at school/college/university, you/your parents getting divorced, the death of somebody you love, and so on, and so forth…
By Outrageous Optimism 5 years ago in Psyche
Ball of Yarn Mind
Have you seen those cartoons that depict a chaotic mind with squiggly lines? Almost like a ball of yarn has completely unravelled and knotted itself inside your mind, and no matter how much you detangle it, there is no clearing the mess that has been made. I often live like this, with a ball of yarn that I can never tidy. I always thought I was stupid, and aloof, just a 'dumb blonde' as friends and colleagues often referred to me as. I knew I was smart but forgetful, and forgetfulness is the seed of stupidity. Throughout my whole life I was always aware that something wasn't quite right with me, but I never thought something was wrong with me and there's a big difference between not quite right, and wrong. Managing that ball of yarn has never been an easy task but sometimes I would forget about it. Whether I was dancing, or playing piano, painting or singing, sometimes that ball of yarn rolled itself up into a more manageable size, and tucked itself into a corner of my mind.
By Beth Hughes5 years ago in Psyche
4 Ways to Stay Grounded in Recovery During a Pandemic Resurgence
As if a year of social distancing, work from home, and travel concerns wasn't enough, a new and more transmissible (and potentially more dangerous) variant of COVID-19 is striking concern among public health officials. According to a Denver news channel, the number of delta variant COVID-19 cases is expected to double every two weeks.
By Hailey Parks5 years ago in Psyche
Unfinished
At age five, I told my mother I wanted to die. When I was taken to a psychiatrist I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder and an anxiety disorder along with ASD. For me, emotion is a tempest, the kind that thrashes at the inside of my mind like a creature that wants to escape. In truly terrible moments, it fizzes under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch away. Sometimes all I want to do is scream. Loudly. Until I can’t scream anymore.
By Emily Wagner 5 years ago in Psyche
One
THE REFORMER: Rational and Idealistic. Principled, purposeful - self-controlled and perfectionist. I wanted to change the world. Change? Perhaps reform is the better word. This precious earth that we all inhabit, learn, and grow in; I wanted to somehow reform it completely into an immaculate Eden. A treasured elysian. It wouldn’t be easy. No, never easy. But still, I believed. I would bring together the greatest minds, the greatest leaders, the greatest contributors; and create a world from the purest of ideals. I wanted to breathe life into the philosophies from the great sages of old. Socrates, Confucius, Einstein, Galileo, De Vinci, all of them. Surely, at least one of them must have seen the world in the way I did. They must have seen all the things we could accomplish together. No, I am not necessarily saying that I am seeking for recognition or God’s favor. Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I believe that you and me together could bring to pass the greatest theophany there is. Either way, I just want to prove that every imperfection could be a lie.
By Kaitlin Christensen5 years ago in Psyche
'back to the future' letter #notetoselfafterlockdown
Backstory... Below is an entry I wrote as a mini time capsule diary a few weeks after the news of the pandemic in 2020. One year and a bit later, I am cleaning up my Google Drive and opened this document.
By 🇻🇳 Journey with Juju 🇦🇺5 years ago in Psyche
The Dead Don't Tell
“The Dead Don’t tell” The watery solution was very warm and thicker than she thought it would be. Naci could feel it painfully entering her lungs and filling them up like a human water balloon. “So, this is what it feels like to be reborn. Painful! Damn, it hurts! No wonder babies are born crying.” She thought to herself.
By Shannon Bush5 years ago in Psyche
A Horse Named Fish
My teen years were not good ones but you made them bearable but one memory stands out as the biggest impact on me today. I remember the feel of the cold steel against my soft pallet the taste of metalic and oil cleaner. I remember the tears burning hot down my cheeks, the press of the bark of my favorite tree pressing into my back. What I will never forget, is the warm sun shining on my face, so I open my eyes, and you standing there looking at me before I can pull the trigger and make the worst mistake I would ever have made. I ease the object of my potential demise out from between my lips as I look into your loving eyes. "I can’t do this anymore!" I said to you, to the universe, and I believed it. As I looked into your face, I knew I needed a proper goodbye. "OK, One more ride." I put it up and we rode. I let out every pain, all the anger; you never judge me, you were just there. The feel of your strong muscle as you move underneath me. Running my fingers through your sparse mane as I cry everything into your warm neck until the wracking sobs and screams become silent tears just streaming down my face.
By Kandice Weger-Herrera5 years ago in Psyche
Moon Light
I woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, shooting straight up in bed with my heart still racing from my nightmare. I look around my bedroom and it is dark, so I assume it is the middle of the night. I slowly make my way into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, only to realize my fridge light is out. I turn around and flick the kitchen light on, but the room remains dark. The power is out. I step onto the back porch to look for the glow from streetlights. I realize the only light source is the moon light.
By Autumn Bradley 5 years ago in Psyche
