humanity

Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.

Are We Killing Young People
In the past months, my 13-year-old stepdaughter took 38 ibuprofen pills, was hospitalised and had to get her stomach pumped. My best friend’s stepdaughter took a bottle of pills and my stepdaughter's friend took his own life. They were all between the ages of 13 and 15. I acknowledge that there have always been mental health issues and indeed suicide but why does it seem like the problem is unprecedented? Why is the next generation so keen to die?
By maria mead5 years ago in Psyche
Expectant Eyes
My mouth feels heavy and too wet somehow. The taste of the moment tumbles around my mouth, thick, unnamable, definitely unpleasant. The show Gidget is playing in the distance. Terrible show really. Horrible lessons, a certain blend of offensively sexist and earnest that only 60s sitcoms can manage. Everything here is outdated. Outdated and broken.
By Christine Hollermann5 years ago in Psyche
It's Mental Illness Innit?
I wasn't diagnosed with depression and anxiety until my 20s but the earliest I remember experiencing anxiety is in my earliest memories; five, six maybe. Depression, the cunning bitch, didn't show up in earnest until late elementary.
By Christine Hollermann5 years ago in Psyche
Abuse.
Throughout these hard times, many people get stuck. Stuck without a job. Stuck in a job that fills them with fear. Fear of getting sick, of dying unable to leave anything for their family. Stuck in their own home, scared and afraid. Why would one be afraid in their own homes? If you have never lived with someone who abused you, you will never know that fear.
By Auralia5 years ago in Psyche
If I Want to Move On...
There were times in my childhood and teenage years when my parents were “absent.” They both left me at times when I was transitioning and when changes were occurring. I should say, it wasn't all bad. I have fond memories with both parents and I'm grateful for the ones I do have. It’s hard for me, having the relationship with them that I do now, to put aside the past and move forward when so much of me is still in pain and hurting. Even in private, only to myself, I find it hard to talk or write about things that bring up painful memories or that might paint my parents in a bad light. Writing this I am knots knowing they might read this and hear me speak my true thoughts. Something I've rarely done with them throughout my life.
By Tabitha White5 years ago in Psyche
Psychology Master's Degree Personal Statement
"I woke up feeling as if I was falling from the sky again last night: head spinning, heart racing — I pulled my knees to my chest waiting for it to end. I felt my kitten lie down next to me and press her tiny, warm body against me, almost as if she knew that I was being attacked from the inside out. I talked myself out of going to the emergency room multiple times in that next hour, repeating over and over, “You’re ok, you can breathe” aloud to myself. As 4 or 5 a.m. hit, I finally fell back asleep after shutting off my alarms and giving up any hope I had the night before of making it to my morning classes.” (Fall 2015 — personal journal excerpt)
By Abigail Thayer5 years ago in Psyche
Keeping the Focus during Covid19
I feel like I am wasting time. I have stopped playing games on my PS4, unplugged it, and packed it away in hopes that I would be able to focus on my writing. You ever get that nudging or like something should be getting done? I am coming up on 2 years of sobriety from drugs and alcohol on the 12th of February and my brain and heart honestly are pushing in the direction that I should be writing a book about my addiction and the disease of alcoholism. The idea would be to help other sick and suffering to know that there are solutions and help is out there for those that want it. I would like to put into words how I used to live, what happened, and what my life is like now. My sobriety date is 2.12.19. My story takes place in NJ and ends in NYC. I thanked God today for the ability to open my eyes and draw breath today. My relationship with my higher power is in the healing process currently. From the time I was 15 years old, I had abandoned God. I was an altar boy in the choir, communion confirmation as my Aunt was a hardcore Catholic. It took me 25 years to surrender my will to a power greater than myself. As we say (self-will) run riot and believe me it did. I went from binge drinking and heavy metal vomit parties, smoking weed, and thinking that I was in control. Waking up in my car from blacking out with vomit and urine all over myself. As time went on and on I didn't see what was happening and that my life revolved around drinking and drugging. By the time I sniffed the first line I had already begun to burn bridges with a lot of friends and slowly losing family members when I made the final descent into my spiral to rock bottom with smoking crack. I was ok with losing everything just as long as I could get high. I was homeless for a short period of time, sleeping on trains or platforms with a bookbag and a giant Dunkin bag filled with what remaining clothes I had. Addiction had me tight in its grip and it has erased all of who I once was, and being in the rooms of recovery has given me a chance to be reborn. I am now grateful for life, living life on life's terms. I am reliable and can be trusted with money. My journey is not a destination, I must remain vigilant against picking up or using. Progress, not perfection, one day at a time I accept I am an addict/alcoholic that my life was unmanageable and came to believe in a power greater than myself, I turn my will over each morning thy will be done, not mine. However, in-person meetings have started returning but with smaller numbers, and Covid restrictions. I do miss going to my homegroup's Tuesday night beginners meeting. Shortly after coming back to the rooms, I was given keys to run an open meeting on Sunday afternoon which I chaired. Setting up the room and brewing the coffee kept me sober. It was me doing service for something that was given so freely to me, the tools of sobriety. I haven't been to a meeting since earlier February 2020. I know there are zoom meetings but haven't really tried any. I do miss it very much and continue to stay connected to the program by speaking with my sponsor, working the steps, talking with God, and reading literature. I hope we can all return to the big meetings, sober breakfast, and conventions one day.
By Joe INCZ5 years ago in Psyche
The Devils Details...
I I don't feel like a good person, nor do I want or desire to exist in this world anymore. I am narcissistic and I'm aware of how I want to heal from it but can't seem to find any motivation to do anything I might enjoy because I know I wouldn't find it emotionally satisfying.
By Jeremy Howard5 years ago in Psyche
I Believe
I believe that life is a tool to harness understanding. We are given so much to see and embrace yet how much do we reciprocate? The word “believe” usually is attached to some form of traditional habit. In all actuality, to believe is a natural phenomenon for mankind when we hear an idea, think about if or how we want it, then we do what we were thinking to do to get the idea in our possession. In order to reach for an idea we are thinking, we have to “believe” in the steps we received to make it happen.
By R.F. Serious5 years ago in Psyche
And in sleep, in slumber.
For posterity. Hah! I am going to write because I want to. I will write for no one else but me, and if you're going to say, why publish on Vocal? Well, why not? Perhaps someone will read it, maybe only my mother will. Although I doubt it very much. She doesn't quite get my humour - and suffice it today, she thinks me a cynic. Anyhow, let's write. If only to release the bursting cells of emotion within me - about to explode simultaneously - if not unburdened immediately. You'd find me a puddle - oozing, unmoving - dead. So, let's write.
By Crissa Labara5 years ago in Psyche
Domestic Violence Survivor Story
✨My Domestic Violence Relationship Becomes A Stronger Woman Story✨ (Trigger Warning—long story) In 2014, DS and I have know each other for more than 10 years before dating him. He was like my best friend. We have been like each other for a while. We have been talking on facetime everyday. I have been asking him the questions why did he no longer with his ex especially they had a child together. He made it clear that his child's mother is crazy and called cops on him because he is a black man. He said, "She hit me and fought with me. I tried not to hurt her because she was pregnant. She kicked me out of our home." He was crying because he missed his son so much. Of course, he made me believe him and gave him support as much as I can. His mother didn't want him to live with her even he has no place to go. Unfortunately, it bothers me about his mother and cops part. His story is fishy and it wasnt sit with me well. I ignored the one of the red flags.
By Tricia Alleyne5 years ago in Psyche
Understanding the Making of Me
My childhood was rather normal, I was born in mid-December at a country hospital in South Gippsland. Only a few days after my cousin Amelia, who became my first friend.
By Emily Kelly5 years ago in Psyche