coping
Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.
Echoes in the Fog
Every night for the past month, I've been having the same dream. It's the kind of dream that leaves an impression so vivid, so intense, that you can't shake it off even after you've woken up. It's a nightmare, really, but not in the traditional sense. There's no monster under the bed or shadowy figure chasing me through endless corridors. Instead, it's a nightmare that feels eerily real, like a memory replaying itself over and over.
By Khutso Moodlleyn Malema2 years ago in Psyche
15 Human Psychological Facts
Psychology is fascinating because it applies to every aspect of our lives. It influences our relationships, choices, and actions. It's in the hug of a loved one, the power of advertising, and our resilience in tough times. Psychology is more than just a subject; it's a journey of self-discovery. It helps us understand others and ourselves deeply. Let's explore 15 interesting psychological facts about human behavior together.
By Jesshh Russel2 years ago in Psyche
A letter to my best friend. Content Warning.
You wake up, you struggle to get out of bed. You feel overwhelmed by the sunlight. You think “Oh no, did I wake up too late again?” even if its still early in the morning. You feel conflicted, you're so worried about wasting time, yet you can't find the strength to get out of bed.
By Lisa Keller2 years ago in Psyche
Dry Mouthed Dreamer
Seventeen and a half hours of disturbing, seemingly eternal, dreams of those who I love and whom I can not seem to convey my reality to in real time, has left me emotionally hungover. They all live far away yet I feel as if they should understand by now why I feel so desperate, desolate and isolated. It's sinking in that life has been an illusion; without an oasis, a gold nugget, not even a postcard to cling to, I have fallen into this remote place where all that I assumed would be turns out to be just a mound of bones, fragments of my past that meant zip, nada. I can't cry or run back to the beginning and fix it all so my journey continues into this desert of self, where nothing matters, especially within my selfish cravings. Laying on the bed just avoiding that one move that changes everything for the day; if I get up I am beckoned to answer for myself, be present; if I lay here, I am sick, lazy, a carcass of my own despair. There is not a magic wand, pill, or sweet talking shrink who can take away this inner disgust, the broken me. The worst thing is people feel bad cause I feel bad. I stuff my mouth with carbs and live for the darkness where I can drown in Discord with far away voices who make me feel, for a few hours, part of this crazy ass world. Waiting to feel something, show something for myself, just to be so-so is a bitch. I honestly have no idea how to turn this cradled cloud of deep sea blackness around. Anybody who's been here knows it's not a choice, a matter of pulling up my boot straps. Hell, I don't even have boots. The notion that we all have hard times, rough patches and so on makes me cringe. I have had ten years of a bad ass trip. Learning to know who I am led to discovering I will never, ever, feel okay in this world. My dad dumped me cause I am me. I was his gift he'd said so many years ago. Years ago. Truth is the killer man. Nobody really wants to hear your answer to "how are you?" now do they? In fact, anybody out there struggling with self loathing, depression, or just a miserable set of cards knows, being happy is a can fucking sardines. All our memories jam packed into one little tin, smothering us and all smelly. Ugly is what it is. Nice little therapists with pretty smiles and nods piss me off even more. "Oh, you have a lot on your plate right now." For the love of jesus, joseph, mary, gods and goddesses, YEAH, I gotta lot on my plate. I don't have a plate. I am spilling my shit all over the place, on the floor, in my bed, my plate is salty and wet, it's full of big ole cry it out tears. No one can fix this. I walk in circles, dry as burnt toast and nothing makes me want to make a move. I just stare at the sky, wondering why me. I know I am not alone; there's a lot of wild shit in this universe. I just wanted, just wanted, just wanted, a little piece of sweetness for a little while. Just a taste of something good for me. Is that such a bad thing? I am either asking too much or not trying at all. There is always a beginning, a middle and an end. Or is there? I feel like I have been in the middle of my worst day for a thousand sunsets. Now, all I can think is if, if, if, you know something I don't, maybe have a map to get me out of this barren mental tundra, can you give me a clue?
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 years ago in Psyche
When Passion Confuses Sexual Arousal and Fear. Content Warning.
'At least I felt something,' I found myself instinctively saying after a friend crept towards me and shook my shoulders. Barely, I watch horror films and I have never really ridden a rollercoaster. So, this playful attack arose a sensation I am not familiar with. Though, it was in its familiarity that I began to think deeper. The "something" that I felt was explicitly fear, though the increased heart rate and rise of adrenaline did not feel all that opposed to sexual arousal. Allow it to be understood that I am not sexually attracted to the person who attempted, and succeeded, to shock me. But, I could not help but wonder how similar fear and sexual arousal truly are. And, if this lack of distinction between the two could be the cause and catalyst for people finding themselves within abusive relationships.
By Katerina Petrou2 years ago in Psyche
Independence or Loneliness
An aspiration for independence seems to be one that many of us share. Perhaps our progressive freedom through the decades has resulted in an ambition for self-reliance - especially among women who strive to be their own providers. Though this dependence on oneself can positively contribute to the views one has on the relationships present in their life, we are social creatures by birth. Developing intimate relationships and regular human contact fuels us to live fulfilled lives. So, what happens when you lose one of these relationships? The person who made you feel most content. Who you could do nothing with and feel okay - like life made sense. Like it did not really need to make sense. Solitude fills the space of the one who has left. And, solitude never leaves. You are left with no choice other than to resent its presence, draining all hope and happiness from your future. Or, perhaps, to befriend it.
By Katerina Petrou2 years ago in Psyche
Writer's Block. Content Warning.
I have been struggling with writer's block for a few months now, but the last 2 months have been worse than normal. I know that I have been having a lot of emotions, and that I try to avoid the intense emotions, but today in therapy, my therapist asked me if I wanted the things that have happened to be my fault.
By The Schizophrenic Mom2 years ago in Psyche
