family

Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.

The Black Hole
There comes a time when fiction blurs with reality, and you begin to question what is real and what is not. The world seems like an endless paradox of surreal self contradictions and irony.
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Psyche
Bedtime. . Top Story - August 2021.
It’s bedtime. Sometimes I don’t want to go to sleep because it means starting all over tomorrow. I never used to feel this way. I used to love going to bed, the feeling of exhaustion, the soft fabric of my pillow and the release of tension from my body as I drift into sleep.
By A Lady with a Pen4 years ago in Psyche
Self-Esteem in Children
Self-esteem refers to “the evaluative aspect of one’s self concept; judgments and opinions about the relative worth of one’s different characteristics” (Lefrancois, 2001, p. 425). It is a broad and comprehensive evaluation which is not specific to a particular skill or segmented mastery level, but rather represents the all-encompassing and deep-seated judgment an individual makes about his/her core value and worth. As such, it is a powerful force in the psyche of the individual.
By Donna L. Roberts, PhD (Psych Pstuff)4 years ago in Psyche
My Favourite Drinking Glass
Visiting my folks always brings back a flood of memories. This isn’t the house that I was born into but it is the one that I left. Even still, it’s full of things that remind me of all of my past.
By Aly Gulamhusein4 years ago in Psyche
I can’t remember that one movie but I remember every other time (cause there are a lot of times)
Movie theaters. Popcorn. Soda. Loud speakers setting up the soundscapes. The corny pop music they’d play with the advertising logos before the movie trailers. Milk duds. Sticky floors.
By Melissa Ingoldsby4 years ago in Psyche
The End Of A Shitty Story
It has been four exhausting years. I hoped by now you would be gone, leaving no trace behind. Although you appear to be gone for good, I see you lurking in the shadows. You try to remain hidden but you’re failing miserably at doing so.
By Cheyenne Marie5 years ago in Psyche
Mental Illness and Marigolds
I stood under the autumn tree in our front yard. The colors were constantly changing, just like mom’s mood. They went from loving green to fiery red in a heartbeat. I watched as she knelt by the flowerbed. Her hands were covered in dirt, like they were every fall. Unlike every fall though, they shook violently as she tried to pull weeds. The marigolds she planted every year were withered and dead. Her mind was somewhere else, and flowers were not a priority this year.
By Amber Toney5 years ago in Psyche
My Monster Mama Loves Me So
Each phase of my childhood had different bedtime books associated with them. My earliest memory of one was Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney next was The Pokey Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey all up through the second grade when I read myself books every night. My house wasn’t always the most stable growing up and reading (especially late at night when other things were going on downstairs) was a great escape. By fourth grade I had been gifted a small reading light and I read the entire Harry Potter series in just over a month. Reading far into the night and often I would wake up with the book still on me.
By Anilynn Cadell5 years ago in Psyche
My Angel
February 4th, 2019 was the day my life as I knew it came to a screeching halt. Our lives were torn to shreds. Our family ripped apart. My heart, destroyed. Your trust in me, obliterated. Your heart and soul, so filled with light and love, joy and passion, kindness and caring, crushed. That was the day they took you away from me. The day they kidnapped you. Didn't they see that you were so loved? Couldn't they hear that you WERE in the best home for you? Your 5 year old little body faught so hard to try to get out of their arms and run to the police car, screaming for mommy and bawling your eyes out. I still hear it as if it's happening every minute of every day, over and over again. My Little Love, I'm so sorry. My heart will never be ok. I know you're doing well with your adopted family, and I'm thankful for that. So thankful. But oh how I miss you!
By Cricket Knott5 years ago in Psyche
From Purgatory to Present
After getting in a motorcycle accident and breaking 23 bones in my face, plus a permanently separated clavicle, including loss of vision in my left eye and taste & smell. Not to mention my IQ dropping to around ~55 from 128 and always in a dream world, except the last 2 days where I remember some things. I needed to be cut open from ear-to-ear to insert metal plates where the skull cracked and realign the broken facial bones. The Norse God Odin willingly gave up his eye and hung himself on Yggdrasil tree until re-born in exchange for all knowledge and wisdom in the universe, including runes (writing!). Sometimes a sacrifice is required to see what has been missing the whole time is what I discovered, and usually it's right in front of you as we fixate on other goals.
By Andrew Dixon5 years ago in Psyche
The Room & the Womb
She hears them out there. They have the sound of her mother’s sighs, her children’s cries, the hollow echo of all the lies she tells herself; sometimes the simpering of dreams curing in the dark. Mostly, they sound like the slow gnawing of guilt—guilt for all the times she wanted to write, craved it, but the baby was ruddy with teething, the cat had eaten a bait, the dishes formed impossible puzzles in the sink, and her fingers hovered and stilled on the keypad, and her eyelids fluttered, and sleep claimed her.
By Karin C5 years ago in Psyche
Summer 2017
The cicadas screech in tune with the hot sticky air drifting in through the bathroom window. I push my glasses to my forehead and rub my eyes with my fists. I pull open my red drawstring bag—perched on the sink ledge—and shuffle through its contents. My notebook, pens and pencils, phone, earbuds, pink sanitary pads, a brochure for the Hakone Open Air Museum, and the sole of my right tennis shoe—are all passed through to grab my clear plastic hair clips. I should’ve brought hair ties.
By ayame5 years ago in Psyche