recovery

Your illness does not define you. It's your resolve to recover that does.

Acceptance
The air was cold and breezy on December 15, 2004. The midnight hour set in as the demons looked for light to cast their shadows. As time ticked forward the shadows began to dance. On this particular night, the shadows zeroed in on Melinda Cline.
By Mel Cook5 years ago in Psyche
anxiety
The gold paint was peeling. Badly. Coming loose from the runner-board along the wall in large chunks and sections. On first glance, even on second and third, the place looked so stunning, so eccentrically artistic – or was it artistically eccentric? – but then she saw the peeling paint, and now it was all she could see. Just like life, she thought. And she willed herself to look away. There was a car outside – just hovering there, not parking, but not not parking, pulled up in front of the building halfway in the marks and halfway still in the street, as if that would make a difference, as if pulling at least somewhat into the designated area made him less of an asshole to all the cars that had to drive around him. She stared at him a while; wondered what he was doing. He was just staring straight ahead, hovering, in that halfway place of non-committal passive aggression. Just like life. She looked away from him, too.
By Joy Read5 years ago in Psyche
The Ride
“This is how people go crazy or come sane, either one feels the same at first,” I think. I’m riding a buckskin horse whose name I don’t know along a dirt path in the middle of Reserve, New Mexico. Reserve, a town of nearly 300, is in the Gila National Forest on the Arizona/New Mexico border. I’m on a student archaeology dig with the University of New Mexico, and I’ve been camping in a tent near an arroyo for over 2 weeks. One other detail: I have 2 ½ months clean and sober and have never felt weirder in my life.
By Freckles Farm5 years ago in Psyche
Light at the End of the Little Black Book
The chilled air cut like knives with every inhale Erica took. The calm rippling of water below eased her racing mind as she peeked over the side of the bridge. Her heavy sigh clung around her as white puffs floating in the winter air. “This is it,” she assured herself. “Your terms, your time.”
By Poproflwaffle5 years ago in Psyche
Tips For Eating Disorder Recovery
This is a topic that hits me personally. Since I began my recovery, I have been an advocate for those embarking on this grueling process. I want to share this with you because recovery is hard. It takes time, and there will be probably be relapses. But, you aren't alone, and you can do this.
By Isla Berry5 years ago in Psyche
Suicide
I was asked to write about this topic by a dear friend. It is not an easy topic to write about. The topic of suicide is dark, it is scary, and it is ugly. It is one of the topics we avoid, it is also a reality that we must not.
By Allen Gavillet5 years ago in Psyche
7 Years of Recovery
7 years ago, I was hospitalized for my eating disorder and haven’t looked back (as in stopped trying. I definitely relapsed quite a bit)
By Morgan Hannaleck5 years ago in Psyche
117
Most of the memories with Rafael are of pain, there is not one time when he took me, when it didn't hurt; I think I just learned to block out the pain and let my body shut down, until it was over, the thing is my body never learned to recognize any different when it came to sex. My first orgasm was at 30, my most memorable sexual encounter was at 30 as well, my body learned to recognize different at 30. There is much more detail where those two sentences came from, but for now I'll say that being rape; once or a million times marks not only your brain but your body.
By Lucinet Luna - The Author 5 years ago in Psyche
Six months in state mental hospital not so bad
Editor's note: A previous version of this article appeared on News Break. I never thought I would end up in a mental hospital.
By David Heitz5 years ago in Psyche
Having a child saved my life
Ever since I was 13, I suffered from mental illness. I remember being absolutely devastated when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression. They prescribed an antidepressant and antipsychotic, but they gave me insomnia. For that reason, I decided not to take them. Things only got worse as time went on.
By Amanda Cermeno5 years ago in Psyche
Facing Trauma
!!TRIGGER WARNING!! At the young age of 13 while in high school I ran with the girls on my basketball team. We were inseparable, I trusted these ladies beyond measure. They were older than myself and taught me the game of basketball. We were trendsetters, girls who played ball like the guys. Winning our entire season, state champions it was unheard of at the time. Little ol' me playing Varsity basketball with high school girls while I was in 8th grade all while maintaining my grades.
By Queen Motha5 years ago in Psyche
Life by Numbers. Top Story - February 2021.
There are three cracks in the plaster of her bedroom ceiling, each thinner and more twisted than the next. She has three pillows in her bed, which he thinks is odd, and sleeps with two blankets. None of this bothers him. The Bad Numbers don’t exist in the appropriately shabby confines of her dorm room and he counts more out of habit than necessity.
By Edith (yesterday4)5 years ago in Psyche