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.

Walking Away. Top Story - February 2021.
As someone who has suffered from separation anxiety for most of their life, one of the hardest things for me has always been letting go of people, even when they're not good for me. The constant fear of being alone keeps me holding on, even when it hurts me. Because somehow I've convinced myself that the pain is worth it, even if it means losing myself in the process.
By Lita5 years ago in Psyche
Inside the Minds: The Man I Used to Call "Dad"
I was trained to be an adult from a very young age. I had to know what to do, making decisions, and defining what is good and what is bad for the entire family. I thought that was typical for every kid but as I grew older, I knew it was not.
By Vitak Cheav5 years ago in Psyche
Adult Diagnosis
An autism diagnosis that comes during adulthood can really re-contextualize an entire life’s worth of events, behaviors, thoughts, and feelings. Even the phrase “autistic adult” can often summon imagery of childhood, or child-like behaviors in many - an overall ableist view of autistic adults that many of us internalize ourselves, whether we realize it or not. Rarely are there resources targeted towards autistic adults, and even more rare that those sparse resources address autistic adults as fully fledged human beings with their own wants, feelings, and will. Mostly, when an autistic adult wants to look into their own neurodiversity and explore symptoms and signs, they must first wade through article after article geared towards the parents of autistic children, and even of those, many lament the poor, unfortunate situation these parents are in - having an autistic child. The disabled in question are rarely given agency.
By Cat Bog5 years ago in Psyche
How to Make Tarte Tatin
The secret to a good Tarte Tatin is to pretend it is a lot harder to make than it really is. It has been a tradition every October 14th to make a French apple pie. Annually for the last seven years we have done this. It started by accident. It was our first year on a new property. A new adventure. A place in France. A last big adventure. I had forgotten to go to the shops and needed to pull a rabbit out of my hat.
By Tom Brad5 years ago in Psyche
Life
It's 29/01/2057, to me, just another night. Like it happens for thousands of years. The weather is comfortable, the house is silent. The world outside is wild, but I'm safe at home. Family is out, the girl I like is sleeping, none of my good friends are online.
By Lucas Matias5 years ago in Psyche
The Round Table
by Echo Johnson Oh, how I held court. The crowd gravitated to me. I had been holding court for what seemed like a lifetime and then was silenced for what felt like an eternity. One day I came alive again. “She” discovered me and gave me a second shot at what I did best. And that was creating endless bonds with people. All sorts of bonds. New friendships. Extremely difficult conversations. Laughter. Tears. Screams of sorrow and belly laughs so loud, they woke up the entire neighborhood. I was “The Entertainment.” To her, my new owner I was, a brand-new purchase. However, the reality was I was an undervalued steal from the local thrift shop that held so many secrets. Yes, I was small, but I was ordained in mosaic tile with imperfections. I stood proud and I made a statement. My journey with her began about 5 years ago. And this journey was no doubt my favorite one yet.
By Echo Johnson5 years ago in Psyche
Lost
Where to begin? I am not sure how to tell my story, sometimes it doesn't even feel like my own. I wish it wasn't. But, here goes...
By Arwyn Jace5 years ago in Psyche
Walk through the door.
Dust blanketing the kitchen, cracks snaking up the walls, weeds taking pride place in the garden. Adele stumbled through the lounge, dazed and in disbelief. ‘How can this be the same house?’ she wondered. Bottles now emptied of the wine that once coloured them were scattered atop the coffee table, their number drawing her eye. ‘Well, some things haven’t changed’.
By Juliet Emaranth5 years ago in Psyche
Is this child a demon?
"No, I really mean it, the child never sleeps, but she has so much... energy... every morning, night, and day." My mom wavered into the phone, exhausted, depleted. No body believed her yet she was right. I slept a mere hour, when I did, and yet I bounded to life at sight of the sun each day as if living on a heavy dose of meth each day, alike my bio mom.
By L.D. Malachite 5 years ago in Psyche
A little different
So today i wanna talk about something a little different than i usually do but its still something i struggle with almost every day of my life..today i want to talk about my relationship with god..if this isnt your jam go ahead and peace out now if your panties get twisted its your own fault i warned you...So im not sure if you know already but im a lesbian i always have been the abuse I endured didn’t turn me gay you wouldn’t believe how many times people have asked me that. I can remember being 4-6 years old and going to school on the school bus. There was this sixth grader named Paige every time i looked at her my little heart would go a mile a minute and all i could think about was talking to her or sitting next to her. Obviously at that age you dont know what that means but boy oh boy there was something about this girl. I was just enamored with her. I even remember having dreams at night about wanting to talk to her so bad. One day for whatever reason i actually got the chance to sit with her and she talked to me and i think I almost died lol again i didn’t know what that meant i just thought she was so pretty. Growing up as a lesbian was very difficult for me because it wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t supposed to be gay. My mom tried everything in her power to make sure i didnt turn out gay. Doing things like always forcing me to have barbie dolls and little girl stuff when all i wanted was hot wheels and tools to play with. My brother always got the best toys. I hated everything she made me wear all the girly shit she did to my hair. The harder i rebelled against the clothes and the toys and the hair the harder she would try. When i got old enough to dress myself and she knew she was starting to lose the battle she resorted to trying to make me ashamed of myself instead. Saying things like “you shouldnt act like that your gonna turn out to be just like your aunt” ...(btw my aunts gay for context) “you dont want that do you?” “you want to get picked on? And for people to think you’re a boy” she hated the way I dressed. I always tried to sneak boys’ clothes as often as i could because it was the only time i felt good in my own skin. Like the outside matched the inside. Don’t get me wrong women’s clothes are beautiful that’s just not the kind of girl i am. Now fast forward a little throw the abuse and puberty into the mix and things got even harder for me. I knew for a fact i was gay, but i also knew i could never tell anyone. I knew i wouldn’t be accepted and probably disowned. I remember trying to tell my father once because ya know he gave me the old you can tell me anything bullshit and i fell for it. I’ll never forget how he reacted. He just laid in silence almost thinking then so fast he grabbed the TV remote and bashed me in the head with it so many times the batteries fell out and the remote broke. He just looked at me and said “no daughter of mine is going to a fucking dyke”... needless to say after that he did his best try to make the gay go away. You can use your imagination as to how. I was 15 when i got my first girlfriend i met her in school and to be completely honest she was not pretty at all but i had such low selfesteem that i didn’t care. I’m not going to into much detail about the relationship but i thought i was in love but knew I had to hide it from everyone. A few years go by and after a couple of near misses my dad caught us together at a grad party. That night he brought me out to an abandoned spot in the middle of the woods. It was pitch black out and he absolutely unleashed and beat the ever-living hell out of me. He knocked me to the dirt and repeatedly kicked me in my ribs. Thankfully i had a thick jacket on and it cushioned it some but i "learned my lesson". Believe me when i say i tried not to be gay. I really did. I tried not to think about it and i tried not to look at girls. I told myself im not gay im just mistaken. I tried it all. Even my mom wanted so badly for me not to be gay that she brought me to dinner just us. I must have been about 16 or 17 as we were eating she straight up said to me that i should go out and have sex with a boy. Told me to go and do it because it would make her feel better. Now all my life i was always told homosexuality is a sin. That i was going to hell, that i would be rejected and thrown away. That was just at home school was no better. With the kids who would make jokes in front of your face or behind your back. All the names they would call you. I was truly hated in every aspect of my life. At one point in my life i was mentally split into three people living three different lives. The abused kid no one cared enough about to save, the gay teenager who was scared to death about being outed and the straight teen who was well behaved wished to please everyone. Living like that for so long really does something to a person. Even after the abuse was over and after i came out ..i still felt like i was a disappointment i was still terrified about what was going to happen to me after i died. Was i really such a horrible person that i had to go to hell and never get to see my loved ones ever again? Did i really deserve to be banished to the same place as people who kill and rape? ..i just didn’t understand why i was made this way if that was my destiny no matter what i did in this life..its like i was born to just be tortured like i had to pay for something i didnt know i did. The older i got the more information i tried to find. I went to school and studied religious studies. I talked to pastors, I’ve read so many articles and book passages and it all lead to the same thing. I had to make a decision completely on my own and had no answers whatsoever. It’s always been insane to me that the same people who tell you you’re going to hell for loving a woman are the same people that tell you god is so loving and forgiving. Which is it? Now I’ve come to a point in life where all i know for sure is that i love my wife and kids more than i ever thought i could love anyone. I’m safe, im loved, im taken care of. Im supported, im happy and healthy. But im still supposed to believe that somehow being married to my wife is biblically worse than being raped by my father. The reason i care so damn much is because even after everything ive been through i still see a beauty in this world and in some people that can only be explained by there a higher power. I believe that there is something, someone who gives us life and love but who also gives us death and pain. I know with every ounce of my being that there is a higher power that we can’t see or understand but the truth is i don’t know what it wants with me. Have i paid my penance? is it right or wrong to be happy? I truly don’t think ill ever know.
By Parker5 years ago in Psyche
THE ROCK IN THE HARD PLACE
I am nine when my father runs off with his 23-year-old secretary. He leaves a note on my mother's pillow: I just don't love you anymore. I know this because I find the crumpled piece of paper in the garbage can after my mother falls asleep on the couch. Then I read it in my closet with my Mickey Mouse flashlight.
By Carol Anne Shaw5 years ago in Psyche
My Inner Evil
There it goes again, that little evil voice inside my head. It is the one that goes off every time I have to deal with another dramatic, crazy episode with my alcoholic, drug addict Bipolar husband.
By Kenna Rae5 years ago in Psyche