Top Stories
Stories in Psyche that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
a kindle inspired breakdown. Runner-Up in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge. Content Warning.
I'm not much of a crier but I used to be. I tell my counselor and my mental health nurse that quite often, when I am sharing emotional stories with them, I just cannot breakdown and cry. I even asked if it was my medication that I am on that just makes me unable to cry. My psychiatrist told me that sometimes we just build up emotional walls to certain things and when that wall breaks- you need to be prepared for it.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹11 months ago in Psyche
55
I turned 55 on Sunday, Feb. 2, the Groundhog Day. And it hit me hard. I do occasionally suffer from the Birthday Blues. You know, no one's getting younger and every year is another wrinkle on your face and in other places. I know, I know, there are a lot of people even in this community who might think, "55! I wish I were that young again!" and I do understand them. I really do. We all have different perspectives on our own age.
By Lana V Lynx11 months ago in Psyche
Fear in a Box
I recently had an experience which has made me thoughtful and reflective (and all of those introspective adjectives) and I wrote about it on here. I actually dressed it up as a story, which was a little naughty of me. The reason for doing it was two-fold: I wanted it to read like fiction rather than a first person account; and the distance of the third-person created a detachment to the events that I sort of felt at the time and sort of didn't.
By Rachel Deeming12 months ago in Psyche
Dear God, Let Me Be Angry
I used to wake up every day and thank my antidepressants for keeping me from getting angry. "The antidepressants keep you at a baseline," the first boy I fell in love with once told me. "They are mostly there to keep you from having high highs and low lows. They will keep you stable."
By Maggie Elizabeth about a year ago in Psyche
Rubedo Coast
A dark coast of amber waves, a wriggling field of moon-suffused wine, licked my toes like an entity desperate for the taste of someone else’s salt. Water split across my tendons like a sigh, and my heels sank with a soft pull. Rough, living bodies recoiled when I flexed either arch. Sand crumbled and fell—a victim of physics I don’t need to understand.
By Cody Ray George (Author)about a year ago in Psyche
