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.
An Ode to a Woman
When I became a mother and started to love my son, I became painfully aware of all the ways that my own mother did not love me. I became painfully aware of a truth that at the core of my being I have felt since I was very young but have allocated an immeasurable amount of defense to protecting; my mother never loved me.
By Aubree Unruh 5 years ago in Psyche
My Darling Daughter Sophie
My darling Sophie. You were born at 15.23 on Sunday 29th September 2002 on the labour ward (I can't remember which one it was now) at Warrington My mum (your birth nana) and middle sister, Emma (your birth auntie) were with me when I was taken to the hospital, but at around 2.30pm, my middle sister (your birth auntie) Emma (who was heavily pregnant with your birth cousin Ryan at the time) wanted to go back to our auntie (your birth great-auntie) Janet's, so our mum (your birth nana) asked me if it was ok for your auntie Emma to go back to our auntie Janet's and I said that she could as long as she sent our auntie Janet, so Emma went back to our auntie Janet's.
By Toni Bennett5 years ago in Psyche
Childhood Trauma
”why didn’t you report them” is the question I always got but when you were abused by the woman who raised you the woman you saw as a mother and sadly love you just can’t go though with it. This is called Stockholm syndrome not many are familiar with the word but means that the victim formed a bond with the abuser. I am now 18 and free from my abuser I am telling my story so that people are more aware of abuse going on in children’s lives and for the people who are still going through it.
By Breanna Zuniga5 years ago in Psyche
Soldier Ants of Correction
The story I'm about to share is a complex one that started a turning point in my life and before I start, bear in mind that I was brought up in the deep villages of Enugu, Nigeria in West Africa and soups were generally spicier there. I will also invite you to have an open mind about the activities that occurred in the story and to know that I was an exceptionally stubborn child that often required drastic measures to affect correction. On that note, I will like to take you back to the beginning of 2004, the year I was all of 11 years and also the year I got it into my head to graduate from stealing pieces of meat from the pot of soup to stealing from my mother’s purse to buy things I couldn't remember today even if it could save a dying baby.
By Nneka Anieze5 years ago in Psyche
Mental Illness Signs in Your Children That You Are Ignoring
In today's world life has begun to resemble a treadmill. Being engaged in our own problems and mishaps, there can be times we overlook the clear signs of help our loved ones are asking for. Children too, go through a lot in their growing stages. There are times when they might try to talk to you or share how they are feeling, but, you may treat their issues as being relatively less important to what’s going on with you in life. You might think that they are small and ignore them, but this creates a wall between you and them which gets thicker over time.
By Niyati Jain5 years ago in Psyche
Be The Boss Mom
I was not the favorite child. I was born the last of eight children, nearly all of which were adults by the time of my birth, with children of their own, save one—a sister, five years my elder. By the time my parents got to me, I was an afterthought. My sister, being their miracle child after the loss of two infant sons back-to-back. She was the miracle child and it was a miracle I even existed.
By Kayla Crowell5 years ago in Psyche
Fury at Last
God, this coffee’s rank. I feel like a bit of a shit for walking out of the wake but you know what? I don’t fucking care. For years she ruined everything for me - playdates cancelled ‘because I said so’, school discos missed ‘because I said so’, hot dates denied ‘because I said so’ and why? Because she fucking said so. That was her ‘go to’ when she had no other reason for making my life miserable. When I was a kid I believed her when she’d say she was only looking out for me but I soon saw the truth. You know you get to that age, that bloody frustrating age when you’re old enough to rationalise and argue your point but ultimately you’re still a child and have to do as you’re told? I’ll tell you, if being a bitch was an Olympic sport my mother would win gold. And, lucky me, I was an only child. Dad fucked off when I was ten. Can’t blame him. He’d had enough and the local barmaid, Liz, was warm and caring and fun and normal. I loved spending time with her and dad. But mostly it was just me and mum for about a decade. Me, mum and ‘because I said so’.
By Julie Murrow5 years ago in Psyche
Shaped By Adversity
March 18, 2021...a date still fresh in my mind, because it was just over a month ago. It is the day my mother died, two days after being vaccinated for COVID-19. I was in the middle of getting my CPR and First-Aid certification when I got the text. "Momma died...", my baby sister had typed. At first I didn't know how to feel.....I drew a blank in the beginning, felt nothing. Then, the nothingness turned to sadness, the sadness to anger, but not for the typical reasons you might expect.
By Lynnette Walker5 years ago in Psyche
