trauma

At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.

You’re Not Alone
Hello. I’m writing on here to let people know they are not alone. My life isn’t roses and butterflies, nobody's is. Everyone has good days, and bad. This last year of my life has changed me in so many ways. In October of 2017, I lost my cousin in the most horrific way possible. Someone took her life. She was basically my sister, we grew up together side by side. All through grade 12 (months before she passed), we texted everyday about school because we were both graduating that year. We’d wish each other good luck on our exams and ask how they went after. She came to my graduation and I regret not being there for hers. October 3, 2017, my cousin was stabbed in her own vehicle as she stopped for a coffee on her way to work. Yup, insane right? I don’t talk about it much so it’s hard to even type. She was an innocent 19-year-old girl. He was a 20 something year old man, high off meth. She just graduated, she had goals. She was supposed to go to Red River that following summer to take culinary courses. She will never be able to live that dream. She was so close, so excited to become an adult. And now, she’s gone. Forever. It left me here wondering, why? Why didn’t it happen to me, why was she taken from me? I struggled a lot after wondering my purpose here in this world. I cried every day, and still cry most days. She was so precious, so innocent. Such a beautiful woman taken far too soon. Why? Life isn’t fair. Since then, I have struggled with depression and anxiety. Luckily, my family ,work family and boyfriend have all been super strong and supportive. My family and I are getting through it one step at a time. My work family and boyfriend are always here making me feel better. I love them all.
By Jay7 years ago in Psyche
Growing Up
This is my first ever time using this, so I'm not sure whether this will get published or if anyone will read it. I guess I'm doing it for myself, but as a sort of diary, if you will. I'm the stereotypical man who struggles to talk openly about how he feels, and I suppose this is a very good way of doing that without openly talking about it face to face, which I don't fancy.
By Rich Dunbar7 years ago in Psyche
Sunday
For five minutes I was able to escape into the showers, and feel the hot water, and stinging strength of the water pressure as it hit my skin. I washed up, and changed into my new clothes that my husband brought. The pajama pants fit perfectly, and my oversized hoodie was perfect for curling up on the couch.
By Rachel Bonneval7 years ago in Psyche
C.S.A.S.
The earliest memories I have about the sexual abuse trace back to before I could retain memories as a child. I know this because there was never a time in my life that I can remember when what was happening to me wasn’t happening. In the earliest memories of the sexual abuse it was never a new thing. The three-year-old little girl that I used to be was used to it and it was normal.
By Kailey7 years ago in Psyche
Still Dealing with the Loss
I was born in 1987 to two wonderful parents. They loved and cared for each other and we were all happy. 18 months later my sister was born, and then two years passed before my youngest sister was born. We moved a few times before settling in New York. Like most families, my parents had their issues and split for a while. Myself, my dad, and my youngest sister stayed in New York, while my mom and my middle sister went to Michigan for a while. I am unsure of how long had passed in between them splitting and eventually working it out, but we were all to meet in Maryland to get back together as a family. On December 26, 1991, my father received the most heartbreaking news possible—my mother had been in a car accident and was dead on arrival at the hospital. She was 22 years old, with a husband and three little girls. He made his way to Michigan for all the proper funeral arrangements and all, but was never the same after. My two younger sisters were too young to really know or understand what happened to our mother. It was not until I was 18 that I was finally given the accident report from that dreadful day. I, to this day, can still picture everything that I read in that report.
By Amber Consiglio7 years ago in Psyche
Interviews with a Big Black Broad: Sessions #7
Interviewer: When did you began to seek professional help to treat your BDD? BBB: I'm sure it's not surprising that I was reluctant. I was complacent in dealing with my issues on my own up 'til the age of 28. I hid from mirrors. I would dwell in front of mirrors. I took down mirrors. I put them back up. I spent all my money on food, alcohol, makeup, hair products and expensive girdles of all kinds. I hid from the world for days and weeks on end. I drank to endure those moments when I gave in to the mounting pressures I felt to rejoin the world even when I felt the worst about myself. The annoyance of having to deal with a disorder that caused me to focus so much on myself had also taken its toll on me. I wasn't a purposefully vain person. I wasn't someone who would choose to be so self-consumed. I wanted to travel the world. I loved people and wanted to meet more of them from all walks of life. I didn't want to assume that everyone who stared at me only did so because they saw someone ugly. I needed the courage to live the life I ultimately wanted. How could I live any longer without being able to face myself in the mirror? Without being able to leave my house without being inebriated in some way? So, I faced the fact that I would remain stuck in the same positions in my life (literally) if I didn't at least try professional help.
By Anarda Nashai7 years ago in Psyche
The Life I Never Asked For
As children, we were always taught to trust our parents, to respect our elders, and to appreciate what we had. However, for myself, that was the most difficult set of expectations anyone could ask of me.
By Kay Mellinger7 years ago in Psyche
Victim Turned Survivor
As I sit here and write, I would love to speak about all the beauty and love and how wonderful this world is, however, sadly that is not the case. This world in my life was much darker.
By Tiffany Myrick7 years ago in Psyche
Religion Trauma Syndrome
This is something you should think about before letting your children go to just any church... I was raised in a Pentacostal/Holiness/Apostolic church that was named as non-denominational. I was lied on, mentally and physically abused. Even sexually used at one point, nothing was ever done about any of these things because "God had a plan for their life."
By Catrina Palko7 years ago in Psyche
Assault- Invasion of My Person
Working as a private music teacher you get to know most of the people you work with very well because you see them one on one, every week. Music is a very personal and emotional process so when you are working with someone in that arena you tend to forge a bond.
By Nocturne Cadence7 years ago in Psyche
She Did It
She killed herself. She put a fucking gun to her head and pulled the goddamned trigger letting that stupid little bullet ping-pong in her head until her brain was mush. Thanks, Mom. Perfect start to the morning. Happy fucking birthday to you, Mom.
By Becky Nanney7 years ago in Psyche
Trauma: The Aftermath
Quite honestly, I do not know where to begin. The meat of this article lies in the mental state and shift after my accident, but the root cause happened so fast and brutally it's hard for me to describe.
By Chloe Moore7 years ago in Psyche