support
A solid support system is invaluable for one's recovery from psychiatric illness and mental health issues.
Are You an Otrovert? The New Personality Type
I’m sure you’ve heard someone describe themselves as either an introvert or an extrovert. Two personality types on opposite sides of the spectrum. The eccentric and outgoing extroverts and the quiet and mysterious introverts, it seems wherever we look society tells us we are either one or the other. This leads many of us to pick a side that we may not associate with completely but feels closest to who we are. Nothing in the middle.
By Dave's Your Uncle!11 days ago in Psyche
Watch Out Wednesdays! (New Year's Eve Edition) - Opinion. Content Warning.
Happy New Year's Eve to everyone! Here is what to watch out for as we head into 2026! 1. Look for vengeance. For 2026, seek to avenge yourself of all of your enemies. Please be 100% in reaching your goal. Please make sure that they cry long into the night. Those who have plotted against you will be in misery when they see you being successful anyway.
By Adrian Holman11 days ago in Psyche
I Let AI Help Run My Love Life in 2025 — And It Got a Little Too Honest
If you’ve been single in 2025, you already know: the dating apps are starting to feel less like apps and more like ecosystems. Profiles are written by AI, photos are filtered by AI, and now, if you want, your whole “compatibility journey” can be guided by an algorithm that claims to understand you better than you understand yourself.��
By The Insight Ledger 14 days ago in Psyche
Home Is Not a Place—It’s a Nervous System
I carry home in my shoulders. In the way they tighten when voices rise. In how my breath shortens before my mind can name the danger. Home, for me, has never been a place you could pin on a map. It has never been an address that stayed long enough to memorize the cracks in the walls. Home learned to move when I did. It adapted. It folded itself into muscle and memory, into reflexes I didn’t choose but inherited from moments that taught me how to survive. As a child, I thought home was where you returned at night. A door. A bed. A familiar ceiling. But even then, my body knew better. It knew that walls don’t promise safety. Silence doesn’t always mean peace. And love, when inconsistent, teaches vigilance faster than trust. So my nervous system became the house. It learned the language of footsteps. It memorized tone shifts. It developed an instinct for reading rooms before my eyes fully entered them. While others were taught to relax at home, my body learned to stay alert everywhere. This wasn’t anxiety at first. It was intelligence. It was adaptation. It was the quiet brilliance of a system that decided, without consulting me, that it would never be caught unprepared again. Modern identity doesn’t begin with who we are. It begins with what our nervous systems learned when no one was explaining things. Long before we chose values or careers or aesthetics, our bodies made decisions. About closeness. About conflict. About rest. Some people carry home in their chests — expansive, warm, forgiving. Others, like me, carry it in our shoulders, lifted slightly as if bracing for impact. Not dramatic enough to be noticed. Not relaxed enough to forget. This is what psychologists call regulation. Or dysregulation. Or trauma, depending on who is speaking and how clinical the room feels. But in lived reality, it’s simpler and more intimate than terminology allows. It’s the difference between entering a space and feeling your breath drop into your belly — or hovering somewhere near your throat, unsure. I used to think I was bad at settling down. Bad at belonging. Bad at staying. But the truth is more precise: my body never learned that staying was safe. So it learned movement instead. It learned how to pack quickly, emotionally. How not to leave fingerprints on relationships. How to be present without being exposed. It learned to treat even good moments as temporary — not out of pessimism, but out of habit. This is where modern psychology meets identity. Not in labels, but in patterns. In the way we mistake survival strategies for personality traits. We say we are “independent,” when really, we learned early that asking for help did not always end well. We say we are “low-maintenance,” when in truth, we learned not to need too much out loud. And somewhere along the way, we start believing these adaptations are who we are — not what happened to us. Home, then, becomes something we try to build externally. A relationship. A city. A routine. We move apartments hoping the next set of windows will finally teach our bodies to exhale. We curate spaces with plants and soft lighting, hoping comfort will arrive through design. Sometimes it does. Briefly. But the body remembers faster than the mind forgets. It remembers raised voices, even when none are present. It remembers abandonment, even in crowded rooms. It remembers inconsistency like a native language. And until it is taught something new — gently, repeatedly — it will continue to act as if danger is just around the corner. Healing, I’ve learned, is not about finding the right place to live. It’s about retraining the nervous system to believe that safety can exist without conditions. This is slow work. It looks like learning to unclench your jaw without being prompted. Like noticing when your shoulders rise — and choosing to lower them, even if nothing obvious is wrong. Like letting good moments stay good, instead of scanning them for exit signs. It is the quiet revolution of teaching your body that rest does not require permission. I am still learning this language. Still negotiating with a system that kept me alive when it had to, and doesn’t yet trust that it can stand down. I thank it now, instead of resenting it. I tell it we are no longer where we once were. I tell it, sometimes out loud, that this moment is safe. Home, I am discovering, is not a destination. It is a sensation. It is the moment your breath deepens without effort. The moment your shoulders drop without instruction. The moment your body stops asking, “What’s about to happen?” and starts saying, “I am here.” And maybe one day, I won’t have to carry home in my shoulders anymore. But until then, I hold them gently. Because they’ve been holding me for a very long time.
By Jhon smith15 days ago in Psyche
Why Somatic Healing Techniques Trump Traditional Self Help
When the body feels and becomes safe - that is when pain and trauma starts to transmute. Talk therapy, combined with listing down the pros and cons of aiding in decision making, no matter the magnitude, is all well and good; yet such self-help and healing techniques do not reach the somatic and sticky bits, right up to the fascia. In no way, shape or form are these techniques being discounted and brushed aside; however for deep healing from caretaking, people pleasing, co-dependencies and addictions (all in the name of unresolved trauma - whether acquired through childhood and/or adulthood); being stuck in the head is a significant disservice to you, and to all of us. (Yes, we are all connected at the end of the day, even if you live in the Northern Hemisphere).
By Justine Crowley18 days ago in Psyche
Watch Out Wednesdays - Christmas Eve Edition. Content Warning.
Merry Christmas to everyone! Let's look at some things to watch out for today on Christmas Eve. 1. Be observant. Today, some people are rushing around to grab last-day gifts before Christmas. Get a kick out of the ones that are running around frantically in a store. These people are procrastinators. Take the time to observe what you are doing so that you will not become a procrastinator like the rest of the mediocre masses that surround you on a daily basis.
By Adrian Holman18 days ago in Psyche
