humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
Chapter Four: Hospital Mum
Lucky is not a word I would usually use when in a psychiatric ward, but I really did hit the fucking jackpot with my new room mate. Lisa, a 40-something year old Mother of 3. Suicide attempt. Kidneys in a horrible state from said attempt.
By Ru Delacovias5 years ago in Psyche
None Of It Cures You
She just sat there. If you looked close enough, you could tell she was shivering. I didn’t dare ask her why I simply said “it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.” She looked at me, tears starting to form. “You know, they all say that”.. she trailed off as her voice cracked and shattered into a million pieces. The tears started streaming and I knew I had to somehow make her see it. “Let me guess .. he left?” She grabbed a cigarette and just stared at it. “I see a bruise. Can I assume?” She sighed, lit the cigarette and barely whispered “I told him I didn’t love him anymore.” I grabbed a cigarette and savored the taste before responding. “You never loved him” and plowing past the protest in her eyes I continued “you said yes because it was easy. It was easy to see yourself with him, to live with him, to let him in. But then it got hard and you didn’t know how to leave. You let him lie to you, you yelled but let him back in your bed, you let him raise a hand to you. You let him get away with calling you a bad name every time he got drunk and mad. You let him make you feel like less than.” She looked offended, I knew she wasn’t getting it. “We let them break us then beg the, to fix us.. that isn’t how it fucking works”. She took a long drag, loooked at me and said “I thought that was how it worked.” I cracked a smile.
By Sara Caramella5 years ago in Psyche
This Is Not My Room
Faith opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. The room was dark with a peek of light shinning through the splits of the window blinds drawn downward. She always drew them downward because she felt that less light would be able to shine through.
By Charity Faye Alexander5 years ago in Psyche
Peaches and Cream Screams
Dear, Readers, Before you read further, this is a trigger warning that this essay discusses self-mutilation, self-harm, and substance abuse. If you suffer from any of these, you’ve been warned, and if you can’t read this without being triggered, I would rather you didn’t read it.
By Chloe Medeiros5 years ago in Psyche
Not My Time
Anyone who has taken the time to look over the sleeve on my right arm would probably come to the conclusion that I’m obsessed with Death. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed though...Death and I just have a very intricate and complicated relationship. The first death I ever experienced was my mother’s. I was four years old and to this day the thing that I remember the most is seeing a grown man cry for the first time. I was four, I had no concept of Death or that it meant I would never see her again. Now before you go getting all sympathetic on me, I’ll say again: I was FOUR. Save the sympathy for people who are unfortunate enough to lose their parents when it’s the hardest, like when they’re teenagers or young adults and could use the guidance. I was a young teenager the first time I considered Death as a friend, an option. I spent days in my room behind a closed door crying over things teens cry about, like boys and getting made fun of for my glasses and acne. But I also agonized over the fact that I was a living, breathing human with a fully functioning body and limbs yet somehow that still wasn’t enough for me.
By Nicole Renee Nunez5 years ago in Psyche
When will it get better?
I am broken, I look around and see people living their lives, holding hands, watching the sun go down or sitting together at a cafe planning. Thats not me, and I fear it never will be. I want to be happy, to smile and laugh and wake up each day with renewed faith that something wonderful is coming. Yet I don’t, I am on my sofa curled with a blanket crying, and I cry and cry until my partner comes home.
By MoriaCavandish5 years ago in Psyche
