humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
Chapter Nine - Sertamean
I hazily awaken from my constantly-interrupted slumber (every hour, on the hour, with a blazing hot torch shining in on my face to ensure that I am alive). It has now gotten to the point where I am getting very cranky – but not about anything to do with me.
By Ru Delacovias5 years ago in Psyche
Chapter Seven - I Started Zoloft Today
I am so sensitive to medication changes. Vomiting, nausea, derealisation, headaches, physical pain…each and every time a new scored pill enters my bloodstream, it is hell for weeks. I try to remind myself that the hell will end, or at least moderately subside. I swallow my tablets, and, as the nurse goes to take away both medication and drinking cups, I stop her in her tracks.
By Ru Delacovias5 years ago in Psyche
Chapter Four: Hospital Mum
Lucky is not a word I would usually use when in a psychiatric ward, but I really did hit the fucking jackpot with my new room mate. Lisa, a 40-something year old Mother of 3. Suicide attempt. Kidneys in a horrible state from said attempt.
By Ru Delacovias5 years ago in Psyche
None Of It Cures You
She just sat there. If you looked close enough, you could tell she was shivering. I didn’t dare ask her why I simply said “it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.” She looked at me, tears starting to form. “You know, they all say that”.. she trailed off as her voice cracked and shattered into a million pieces. The tears started streaming and I knew I had to somehow make her see it. “Let me guess .. he left?” She grabbed a cigarette and just stared at it. “I see a bruise. Can I assume?” She sighed, lit the cigarette and barely whispered “I told him I didn’t love him anymore.” I grabbed a cigarette and savored the taste before responding. “You never loved him” and plowing past the protest in her eyes I continued “you said yes because it was easy. It was easy to see yourself with him, to live with him, to let him in. But then it got hard and you didn’t know how to leave. You let him lie to you, you yelled but let him back in your bed, you let him raise a hand to you. You let him get away with calling you a bad name every time he got drunk and mad. You let him make you feel like less than.” She looked offended, I knew she wasn’t getting it. “We let them break us then beg the, to fix us.. that isn’t how it fucking works”. She took a long drag, loooked at me and said “I thought that was how it worked.” I cracked a smile.
By Sara Caramella5 years ago in Psyche
This Is Not My Room
Faith opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. The room was dark with a peek of light shinning through the splits of the window blinds drawn downward. She always drew them downward because she felt that less light would be able to shine through.
By Charity Faye Alexander5 years ago in Psyche
