Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
The Battle of a Day
Days are filled with bouts of anger and oceans of tears forming in my eyes. I have no control over my emotions or how they choose to seep through me. The demons inside me lash out at the ones I hold dear, and there's nothing I can do about it. Everyday I wake up in a whirlwind of feelings, sitting at my desk, I weep uncontrollably, for no apparent reason. When the tears have been shed, my hands clench hard into fists until my nails make deep indents in my palms. Again, for no reason that is clear. I'm angry and I'm sad and I'm nervous. I can't stop thinking about things I don’t want to be thinking about, things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Even if I try to focus my mind on something else, the memories still play in the background like elevator music. Still there, still wanting to be heard. I can’t take it anymore. I can feel myself getting bad again, but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to help myself. The bottles of empty wine are starting to build up in my cupboards. Each one pushing the angst of my soul a little further down. But after the buzz subsides, it come back up flooding my veins and entire nervous system. I know it's not healthy, but anything beats the pills.
By Jessica Rasile8 years ago in Psyche
Alone
Emily was a straight-A student, one of the top GPA’s in her class, and was well know and liked throughout her school. She had many friends, and was quite popular with the guys. She had shoulder length hair that bounced as she cheerfully walked throughout the halls with her group of other beauty queen friends. Her light blue eyes twinkled at every smile her perfectly curved lips would make.
By Maritza Landeros8 years ago in Psyche
Who Am I?
I am the person that people point and whisper about, the one that is frowned upon by some and ridiculed by many. I have severe depression. I am emotionally unstable and my anger knows no bounds. I wasn’t this person to begin with. When I was born I was undamaged. Perfectly formed things moved like a well-oiled machine. Now I feel old, tired, and desperate.
By Nadine Haigh8 years ago in Psyche
How To Love/ Be In Love With Anxiety
Whether you or the person you love has anxiety, they battle something they simply cannot control which opens a whole new load of doors (doors that shouldn't be opened): the worries, the paranoia, the over-thinking, the hurt. We know it's difficult, so we don't burden you with the news. A support system of friends, family, and partners can be hugely helpful to those with anxiety, but only if their loved ones understand what they do (and do not) need to cope.
By Faye Chamberlain8 years ago in Psyche
Down the Rabbit Hole
Before we begin, let me tell you that this was written in a blog post format, and this was also written not in the intent to encourage the action in the blog post. But in order to vent some feelings from a FICTIONAL character. Depression is a very serious subject, and the things talked about in this post are serious. Please, do not take it lightly. Now, let's begin with the story of how one girl discovered something she thought was going to help her, but leads her down a dark, dark rabbit hole.
By Kittie Kat8 years ago in Psyche
My Anxieties Have Anxiety
On any given day, I wake up with half a dozen thoughts, concerns, fears, or ideas running through my head. These thoughts can range from my to-do list for the day to the argument my husband and I had before bed. Some mornings, it is the vague flashes of images from the endless dreams I experienced during the night due to my brain working endlessly to process my emotions and triggers.
By Erica Hale8 years ago in Psyche
Me and My Borderline
Nowadays, terms like psycho and depressed are an everyday part of life, just words that get thrown out by people that don't really understand their meaning. They are flippant about words that in the mental health system are terrifying. I am 35 years old, I am a mother to five kids and have a chronic illness, I am married and I have borderline personality disorder (BPD).
By Nadine Haigh8 years ago in Psyche
Suicidal Ideation
Alarm goes off, you hate the sound. You sink deeper into the bed. You didn’t even want to go to sleep last night and now you suddenly don’t want to get out.. you roll your eyes at yourself for this and get up. It’s cold, you hate the feeling. You go to the bathroom and turn on the light, it’s shockingly bright and you hate it. You dislike the very act of using the toilet. You hate the sound of the toilet paper and the feel of it against your skin between your legs. You pull up your underwear, it never seems to fit quite right. Then your pants. You turn and flush the toilet. You hate the noise. You hate that you don’t know where this goes and that piss is mostly ammonia so you probably just killed a fish. You turn on the sink, hating that even going to the bathroom is such a long to do list, you wash your hands and rinse. Turn off the sink and get a towel to dry your hands, they can never seem to get all the way dry before it’s uncomfortable you’ve been attempting long enough.
By Chris Alvis8 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
Never In the Cover of Night
Choices made will often appear temporary at first sight. We bog down our perceptions of our interactions with notions of grandeur or opposing feelings of dismay. Time continues to elude us and these temporary decisions become situations, situations then soon become prisons. I would often think about what had lead me to this place in time. The turmoil of our adolescence may generally leave little opportunity to succeed, but that doesn’t mean that our youth has to be wasted. In my case however, I fear it did. Every chance I had to take coal and make a diamond, I just took the coal at face value. Some of us choose to believe in things like fate or destiny. My path mostly felt, to such a degree, the best of a bad situation. My conscience was tormented by vague recollections of how and why I behaved the way I did. The option of sneaking away from danger was always something I could rely on. So as the years had passed, I came out virtually unscathed. The damage on the inside though, on the inside, it was a different story entirely.
By Sickboy Lecuyer8 years ago in Psyche
