humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
Am I Ugly? The Reality Of Low Self-Esteem and Self-Perception On Mental Health
Low self-esteem can be crippling and, if not addressed, can lead to further psychological issues. In this blog post, we will explore why our physical attraction to ourselves and others matters more than we think and how it can affect our mental health.
By Les Morgan3 years ago in Psyche
Being Vegetarian
Sometimes I ask myself why I am vegetarian. I question the effect that it has on my body. My mum is South African and when I think about the ideal diet I can’t help but think about how meat might help me. I think about the protein of steak and eggs. How when I was in what I believed and still sometimes believe to be the peak physical shape that I was in I feel that I am missing out on my mainly plant based diet. At university for a time when I was struggling with money I was turning to dairy products for calcium and energy. Though I swear off of eating eggs on their own or as part of a dish I was drawn to eating cheese with bread. There was something survival based about that. I think about the scene in 1917 when the two soldiers are on a farm and they use the milk left by a cow for energy. Their is an image in my mind of the cows maternal instinct to feed its calf and how the fables of the past often refer to children being raised by wolves. The idea of a child surving by sucking on the breast milk of another animal when their mother is not there. This is the idea when I don’t have access to the food in my mums shelves back at home. It’s an idea of survival to live off of the discounted cheddar that comes in packets that are mainly made for that of packed lunches. Bars that are only a little better packaged than that of the baby bells targeted for children. I pair it with bread that it on discount I often think about the time when I paired it with bagels that were being sold on discount for 90p. This saver meal kept me going for a few days. Enough energy to get me to work were I would eat vegan food on my shift or keep me going until I could use the last of my rice and pasta for an evening meal. There is a guilt that sits with me when I try to enjoy this food. Though sometimes I wonder how my body would look and feel has I stuck to the diet of meat and dairy that I used to have. I compare myself in my mind as I have a shower. I work out often as a form of habit to battle the depression that seems to seep in when I don’t. I don’t do it for the aesthetic side of things but one can’t help to be inclined to that thought process. I am not overtly strong but nor am I weak. My muscles are lean and my skin tight to them. There was a period of time when I grew self conscious of myself and worried that when I looked in the mirror I was weakening or a shell of the man that I used to be. That is my thought process. It’s still toxic. I grew up around boxers and working men. My mother was a fitness instructor. My uncle a boxer. I was a lifeguard for years, boxed and have always had an active lifestyle even in my leisure activities of boxing, basketball and extreme sports such as BMX and skateboarding. I was having these thoughts of self recession around the time of halloween and summer. In the summer I hadn’t eaten much and to work out it almost seemed like a self punishment. I would be burning more body fat that what I could afford to spend because from previous knowledge I didn’t have the funds to acquire the food needed to refill the body energy that had been produced for a work out. I didn’t want to be skinny ripped. I didn’t want to work out and rise to my feet again with a head rush feeling as though I was about to faint. I had done that enough times to know that it was bested to reserve my energy. Near the end of summer I was getting ready for a new job. I had to wear a smart white shirt and trousers. The only shirt that I could find was a tight, slim fitting one that I had got with my partner as a set form M&S. I don’t mind wearing women’s clothing. It was a nice fit. I came out to my garden where my friend and his friend was sat, they looked at me and said that I looked really good. In that time I felt it. As time went on Halloween came around and I was wearing the same shirt again. It was part of our costume for the night. Me and my friends had decided to go as the characters from reservoir dogs, so white shirts were a must. We were at house party sat on the counter tops of a kitchen when I was talking to someone and my house mate said that he needed muscles like mine. He said it to a girl. She looked over for a moment and then carried on talking. It was strange. I didn’t think that I had muscles anymore. I compared myself to other men in society. Anyone that I deemed bigger or more aesthetically pleasing than myself. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been eating properly that these insecurities had set in, either way they had. Though I probably had the most energy than what I can ever remember at the start of my vegetarian diet, I at the time also had the money to back it up with takeaways and food in abundance. Now I compare myself to others that have the needs and means to make themselves look like Greek gods. I forget about my situation and my own worth. It’s a vain analogy though one that is true. That same friend tells me how he wants to look like me. He wants to dress like me and have my hair. My face etc. I don’t see why a lot of the time. I often find myself boring. Fake. Unnatural. Often beating myself down. I don’t talk about it to people. I don’t see the reason to. On nights out my friends say that I’m the man though do not know how much I respect the people that tell me the same thing as what they might want to hear themselves. I do not say anything I observe quietly. Smiling at the awkwardness of the compliment. It’s as simple as that. This chapter holds more than just dietary requirements but also ethics, masculinity, self image and self respect. I often question everything that I put into my body. The masculinity of it all. The strength of my character and my mind. Weakness is something that I can not tolerate in myself so I try everything that I can to push it out. I try; writing, painting, talking, reading, fucking, smoking and working out. I try everything that I can to feel strong again yet still feel weak. I worry about money, religion, my mental peace and god knows what else that can fall under the sun.
By John Gilroy3 years ago in Psyche
Noise in Africa mainly from churches is this the cause for the highest suicide rates in the world?
According to a website called 'World Health Rankings,' out of the top 10 countries with the highest suicide rates 6 are in Africa. They are #1 Lesotho, #3 Eswatini (formerly Swaziland), #7 Zimbabwe, #8 South Africa, #9 Mozambique, #10 Central African Republic.
By IwriteMywrongs3 years ago in Psyche
Why We Can't Ignore The Link Between Racism And Mental Illness In The Black Community
This oppression has a devastating impact on the mental health of members of the Black community, creating a strong link between racism and mental illness that we can no longer ignore. It is essential to understand how racism is intertwined with the mental health of African Americans, and what can be done to create a more supportive and equitable society. Here, we will explore the connection between racism and mental illness in the Black community and how we can work together to help those affected.
By Les Morgan3 years ago in Psyche
This Actually Happened
Sunday, 18 December 2022 This actually happened. I remember a school project, one where we had to write down an old memory, one of our earliest ones. Something light I guess. Thats what I chose anyway. I chose one of me falling off of my skateboard in the local park on my estate, it wasn’t deeper and I guess a childhood infatuation with extreme sports led me to romanticise the event in my mind. Helmets sketched into the illustration that illustrated the dream like situation. I guess I naively exaggerated the fall a little as a child does. Exaggerating the pain of the accident alluding to a concussion when a full face helmet might have been worn. You never really know the truth, but a white lie here and there when you’re ten or eleven years old can often go along way, although I was ‘Honest John’ and these things never quite sat right with me. We had to read the memories to each other in the class and as embarrassing memories have this affect on most people I cringe as I find myself reflecting on how I was saying “This actually happened, this actually happened”. Over and over again to my classmates, I mean honestly who actually gives a shit right? This was a train of thought as I mulled over a book of stoicism that rested on my partners parents living room coffee table, the unlit fireplace with burnt coal across from us and the lights of the Christmas tree to our left. My girlfriend spoke to me about a memory, a conversation that she had with a friend whilst visiting her in Edinburgh, Scotland. I wanted to listen to her. Just take it in. Earlier I had been reading that book on Stoicism. The prologue and the first two pages of the first chapter. I wanted to listen so bad, I’m being ‘Honest John’ here, so I started thinking about what the greeks would do to listen. What would they do to focus on what someone is saying to them. What would a stoic do, is this what stoicism is about and so forth. She asked me if I was annoyed. I said no, I’m just thinking about how this actually happened. My mind wandered on to Plato and Socrate's final lecture, that famous renaissance painting of the lecturer speaking to Plato and the rest of his almost disciple like followers and students, before he drinks the poison that his fate lead him to drink, the punishment that he was condemned to for whatever crime he had committed. Although the artist took some artistic liberties with the painting, putting himself into the painting. I still thought about how the main figure, the philosopher, genuinely drank a poisonous plant for a crime. I thought about how me and my mates smoke weed every now and again. I thought about how Mandela and so many other South Africans suffered in prisons for years listening to white noise. I thought about the holocaust and all of the other atrocities and then I thought back to that eleven year old me saying yeah this actually happened bragging about a skateboard fall to my mates. It put things into perspective, one that I have obviously realised time and time again before, but to put it so simply whilst hearing my partners anecdote about something that actually happened about a month ago, just made me feel that a lot has actually happened in this world and what does it matter. What do I have to show for it. Why do so many people suffer hardships in the past and why can I just get to sit here in a living room hearing stories from a country that once had to fight for its independence from the country who’s capital city I have just arrived in and am currently sat comfortably on the sofa of. Why did a genius have to suffer a painful death from poison from a potion of a plant that burns your insides for questioning the reign of authority when me and my friends act a fool smoking over plants for the fun of it, questioning the monarchy, capitalism, the government and all of the rest of it through our music and poetry and talks in a pub over poisonous pints that we wash away the side effects of with orange juice and a greasy spoon breakfast, why do I have it so lucky when so much in this world actually happened. Boar wars took place, lands were conquered and women raped. Then only yesterday I was watching James Cameron’s avatar, a million dollar film made to be as realistic as possible, I almost cried as I watched it. It was realistic. It made me question a lot of things and also begin to despise humanity. It made me hate industries and wince at the thought that I can’t handle the sight of CGI characters being given the same treatment that real human beings have been given in the past. Things that actually happened. Parts of my own families past that I don’t quite want to face at this time and I’m lucky enough to decide to turn a blind eye to it all because I live thousands of miles away from any of the places where these atrocities actually happened. I have spent my life in a city of culture where in theory we love one another. I have spent most of my life on the side of the city where other nations are celebrated the most, carnivals are held and houses are painted the colour of the rainbow. I live closer to Heathrow that I do to Notting Hill or maybe somewhere in between the two, but neither does that mater nor have a real impact because we are there on the in-between of things not happening to us nor around us. We are passengers on the bus, as others argue amongst themselves we watch from the sidelines and talk about it to loved ones later. We hear of things that have actually happened but are no longer seen. I’ve witnessed videos of Covid in China, heard stories from Libya and now as I write I’m warm next to a Christmas tree as a dog in front of me sleeps, no this isn’t a dream this is a reality. This actually happened. And all that I can show for it are some words on a page that may well be forgotten by you the reader as you wake up to your phone tomorrow with more stories on your news feed from the writers from today talking about tomorrow or the writers of tomorrow writing about those of the past, either way it all actually happened but no one seemed to care. We all seem to be that eleven year old screaming and shouting out in vein about the memories and images that conjure in the mind, we are all just sharing the stories of our time. Swearing to you all that this actually happened time after time. Just to have the truths locked away deep, deep down in the chambers of your mind.
By John Gilroy3 years ago in Psyche
The Connection Between Poverty and Mental Health in Minority Communities
Racial profiling and poverty are two key factors that can significantly affect a person’s mental health and well-being. As a result, there is a need to understand the psychological impact of poverty and racial profiling on minority communities, and how this affects their overall mental health.
By Les Morgan3 years ago in Psyche
Look at life little by little
Someone asked, if life can refresh, copy, paste. So everything can be logged out, shut down, and restart. Time is slipping under your fingernails, and I'm curious to know, what else do you have left? Wandering around doing nothing? A mediocre man who achieves nothing? I know. None of this is what you wanted. Success requires a determination to break the cocoon, a belief that never gives up, and the courage to keep striving.
By Yan Guo Luan3 years ago in Psyche
