family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
Empty
It seemed like the perfect time to die. Alex had been thinking about his death for a long time now, fantasizing about the way he would do it, imagining the look on everyone's faces, the silent vigil and tiny shrine his classmates would come up with. Would they regret not talking to him? Would they regret the way they seemed to look through him? He wondered if anyone at school would truly miss him.
By Astha Writes8 years ago in Psyche
An Open Letter to My Abuser
I'm scared. I'm scared of being happy, I'm scared of opening my mouth, I'm scared of crying, and most of all, I'm scared of you. I love you, but all you do is hurt me. Even when you don't mean too, it's like I don't matter anymore. I can't understand why.
By Marissa Dover8 years ago in Psyche
Depression
It began at 12. My life was never extraordinary. I was just a simple southern girl who lived in a bad situation. At twelve I realized I wasn’t like most girls. That’s because I liked most girls. Once I came out to my family it was like the devil had made his appearance in our home. My grandmother and father disowned me along with a few other family members. My dad being a drunk told one of his customers who had a child in my class and she started my bullying. She told the whole school about me liking girls. They all started pushing me and calling me names. That is when I started my cutting. By the time I entered eighth grade I was already a regular cutting. Then I got sent off to get help. Let me tell you. The “help” was a joke. They just gave you medicine and picked fun at you when they would leave your room. Nothing truly helped until I got home and started writing. I would use my depression and schizophrenia to help me make up intriguing stories and share them with my friends. The older I got the stranger the stories got. Then one day I stopped writing. I met someone who instantly sparked my soul. We started dating and then, like any young couple, we started other things. I felt cured of my depression. Until I got my annual visit to the doctor. She confirmed that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. My depression came storming back in with its bags packed and a new things with it. How was I going to tell my man? Would he still want a woman who can’t bare children? Would he leave? All these questions and no one to help me ask them. He noticed my mood changes and noticed I had quit putting effort into everything. I saw what my depression was causing and was going to end it that night. When we got back from a family outing; I had a speech prepared and everything. Turns out he had a speech ready too. He sat me on our bed and began rambling about how he noticed changes. I went to interrupt him and he got down on one knee and proposed. I was at a loss for words. Before I gave him an answer, I told him what the doctor had told me. His response? “That’s fine. There are several children needing a good home. We could always adopt a child.” Right then I knew I wanted to marry this man. I know, I know. This sounds all fairy tale like. But this is my real life. My struggles with depression have brought me terrible luck but also something amazing came out of it all. I married my best friend two years after he proposed to me. Then five months after we had married, I found out we were pregnant. As a girl who once thought she would never make it to where she is today because her depression was getting the best of her I can honestly say, I’m proud of my depression. It’s had it’s bad days, but without it, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today. Depression isn’t a nice thing but what if I wouldn’t have went off and got the help I needed? Then I wouldn’t have met my husband when I came back home. I wouldn’t have graduated high school. I wouldn’t be married to the man I love. I wouldn’t be watching he and our three year old daughter cuddle as I type this. I wouldn’t be happy today. Depression is an awful thing, but if you find your own ways to deal with it, and conquer it in your own ways, it will get better. I have faith in everyone who has depression. I know it’s hard but I promise you it gets better. Please make sure you are around to see the better days of depression. I still get my outbursts, but when my husband sees I’m getting bad again, he helps me. He notices what my house work is lacking and helps me. If I do all the dishes but the dinner dishes, he does them. He also puts on my favorite movie and just talks with me. He does everything he can to help my depression just clear out for a while. My little girl doesn’t know that I struggle, and my biggest fear is her knowing and feeling like it’s her fault, as I did with my own mother, but when I start getting bad I hold her. I sing her favorite song to her and tell her how much I love her. As long as my child knows it’s not her fault, I feel somewhat better. It’s been 3 weeks without a breakdown and I’m feeling pretty strong. I know my breakdown day is coming but I feel as though I can welcome it back. It is an old friend to begin with.
By Sandra Reynolds8 years ago in Psyche
My Inner OCD Battle
It's Saturday 4pm and my husband isn’t off until 6 or even later plus he has to drive home. Oh joys! On a rainy day like today, my two energized kids can’t go outside and have already watched two movies. They were both Disney classics with good morals, right? My patience disappeared hours ago and my baby won’t take a decent solid nap for very long, thanks to his big sisters. My hope of burning energy running up and down the stairs wasn’t worth my loud voice anymore. Oh wait, someone just asked me for a snack and the other child drug her princess gown blanket along my dirty kitchen that hasn’t been cleaned for weeks. To top it all off, I’m still in my PJ’s and don’t remember when I combed my hair last!
By Stacey Gividen8 years ago in Psyche
Living With a Narcissist
If you know or suspect somebody is a 'Narcissist,' chances are asking them isn't going to do you any good. Reading through articles and books written by rare narcissists who have realised their condition, it’s easy to see how difficult it is to encourage them to change their behaviour. In some cases, the self assured and unapologetic tone of these works is eerie at best. Narcissism by definition makes a person less likely to see that there is anything wrong with themselves, which makes it difficult to diagnose. After all, how do you break through to someone who is entirely convinced that they are right?
By Lily Hannah8 years ago in Psyche
Happiness
There comes a point where you just don’t care anymore. Care about what everyone says about you. Care what everyone thinks about you. Society gives us a whole list of things that we “have to do.” Just simple things that I, as a person, must do to comply with everyone else and be deemed socially accepted. When I was growing up, my mom was a major influence on me. I wasn’t a very confident or socially outgoing child. I kept to myself. I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t really have the urge or want to do what everyone told me I had to do in life. But why? Why can’t we all make our own way in life without having to give in to what everyone expects us to do and behave. More importantly, why can’t we all make our own decisions in life without being attacked or marginalized for doing what makes ourselves comfortable.
By James Roller8 years ago in Psyche
Troublemakers
North Carolina was better... But not by much, not at first. A friend of mine from high school had a place she wanted to rent out, and we were desperate to get out of Colorado, so we took the plunge. Just the three of us; Me, Garret, and his sister. We left a large 5 bedroom house with a yard, 2 cats, and a roommate I had also known since high school (she couldn't bear to part with the cats) for a 2 bedroom condo that would have fit neatly into the kitchen/dining room/front hall of the house. The flight wasn't bad, although we managed to lose the dog somewhere in the cargo area (he was found an hour later, perfectly happy and being spoiled for being so good natured).
By Deanne Horton8 years ago in Psyche
You're Making It Up
At two months of age, Garret wouldn’t sleep unless I was holding him. At all. No naps. No crying himself to sleep from exhaustion. It didn’t matter if anyone else was holding him. He just would not sleep. I knew there was something not right in that. Wanting to be held is normal. Not sleeping unless a specific person is doing the holding is not.
By Deanne Horton8 years ago in Psyche
