depression
It is not just a matter of feeling sad; discover an honest view of the mental, emotional and physical toll of clinical depression.
The Night I Understood Football
I didn’t go to the game expecting hope. It was a cold November Thursday. My brother had just lost his job. My nephew hadn’t spoken in days after a school incident. The world felt heavy, and the last thing I wanted was to watch a mismatch—our hometown team facing a dynasty that hadn’t lost in months.
By KAMRAN AHMAD9 days ago in Psyche
The Emotional Impact of Growing Up Unloved
Nina was thirty-four when someone asked her what she needed, and she realized she didn't know how to answer. Her friend had noticed she looked exhausted—working sixty-hour weeks, managing everyone's problems, never saying no to anyone. "What do you need right now, Nina? How can I help?" Nina opened her mouth. Closed it. Felt panic rising. "I'm fine. I don't need anything." But that wasn't true. She was drowning. She just had no idea what she needed because no one had ever asked before. And more fundamentally, she'd learned by age seven that her needs didn't matter.
By Ameer Moavia9 days ago in Psyche
Society Often Teaches Us to Suppress Our Sad Feelings, Branding Them as Negative.. Top Story - January 2026. Content Warning.
Allow yourself the time to feel, process, and let go. What a journey we’ve traveled together. You can relate to that pain that appears out of nowhere and wants to linger in our minds. Once fear moves in, it takes root—spreading doubt, loneliness, and confusion It’s that kind of pain that overtakes your mental health, gradually making a home within you. Your thoughts can create a space filled with fear, a feeling that we often cling to because it’s the one our minds use against us—leading to a fierce battle between your thoughts and your feelings. It’s a struggle no one wants to lose, yet losing yourself feels like an ever-present threat. Isn’t that a trick life plays on us?
By Johana Torres9 days ago in Psyche
When Love Feels Like Anxiety
Caleb loved Iris so much he couldn't sleep. Not in the romantic, staying-up-talking-all-night way. In the lying-awake-at-3-a.m.-heart-racing-mind-spiraling way. In the checking-his-phone-every-five-minutes-when-she-didn't-text-back way. In the can't-eat-can't-focus-can't-function-unless-he-knew-she-still-loved-him way. People said he was in love. And maybe he was. But it didn't feel like the love depicted in movies or described in songs. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, constantly terrified of falling. It felt like his entire nervous system was wired to one person, and if she withdrew even slightly, his whole world collapsed. It felt, more than anything, like anxiety. They'd been dating for eight months, and Caleb had never felt this way about anyone. He thought about Iris constantly. Needed to know where she was, who she was with, whether she was thinking about him. When they were together, he felt euphoric. When they were apart, he felt like he was suffocating. "You're so intense," Iris said one evening after he'd texted her fourteen times because she hadn't responded for two hours. "I was just at dinner with my sister. I'm allowed to not text you for a few hours." "I know. I'm sorry. I just... I worry when I don't hear from you." "Worry about what?" Caleb couldn't articulate it. That he worried she'd realize he wasn't enough. That she'd meet someone better. That she'd wake up one day and wonder why she was with him. That every moment she wasn't actively choosing him felt like she might be about to leave. "I don't know," he said instead. "I just love you a lot." But it didn't feel like love. It felt like drowning while pretending to swim.
By Ameer Moavia10 days ago in Psyche
PAPER THIN. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Raffaelo learned the rhythm of cruelty before she learned its intention. It arrived dressed as humor, wrapped in familiarity, passed hand to hand at family gatherings like a shared inheritance. Buffalo. A word chosen not for meaning but for sound, because it rhymed, because it landed easily, because no one had to think before saying it. Her parents said it with smiles, squeezing her cheeks, proud of how unbothered they believed she was. They never noticed how her laughter came a second too late, how she began standing at the edges of rooms as if apologizing for occupying them.
By Designed by Romaisa11 days ago in Psyche
The Year She Forgot How to Be Around People
Emma had been alone for 347 days when she realized she'd forgotten how to have a conversation. It wasn't intentional isolation. It started with the pandemic—everyone retreated into their separate spaces, and Emma's one-bedroom apartment became the entire universe. Then her remote job eliminated the casual water cooler chats. Her best friend moved across the country. Her weekly book club dissolved. One by one, the threads connecting her to other humans frayed and snapped. And Emma told herself she was fine. She had video calls sometimes. She texted people. She scrolled through social media seeing everyone else's lives. She wasn't truly alone. But when her neighbor knocked on her door to ask about a package delivery, Emma opened her mouth to respond and the words came out wrong. Stilted. Like she'd forgotten the rhythm of human speech. "I... yes. The package. It's... I haven't..." She couldn't form a complete sentence. Her neighbor looked at her with concern, and Emma felt a wave of panic. What was happening to her? After he left, Emma sat on her couch and tried to remember the last real conversation she'd had. Not a transactional exchange with a delivery person or a scripted work call, but an actual spontaneous human interaction. She couldn't remember. And when she tried to imagine having one now, her brain short-circuited. The social scripts she'd once known automatically—how to read facial expressions, when to laugh, how to know when it was her turn to talk—felt like a foreign language she'd once been fluent in but had somehow forgotten. Emma wasn't just lonely anymore. Loneliness had physically changed her brain. And she had no idea how to change it back.
By Ameer Moavia11 days ago in Psyche
