Most recently published stories in Psyche.
Breathe in. Breathe out. This is fun, this makes you happy. Relax and remember that. Breathe in. Cut the paper down to size, a perfect rectangle.
Depression: Under Pressure
Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure that burns a building down Splits a family in two
If you don’t know it, you will lose control and become anxious.
Anxiety is mostly a normal physical and mental response to stress, and it is a positive way of coping. The essence of anxiety is a fear of potential loss of control.
When a child has problems such as psychological discomfort, what should parents do to help the child?
When a child has problems such as psychological discomfort, what should parents do to help the child? Original 2021-06-08 10:09·English teacher helps solve youth rebellion
Many people who suffer from depression have a common trait, that is, they have not learned to "become bad."
Do you frequently jump into the trap of "good guys"? "You are so good, you will definitely not refuse to help me." In work and life, once some people label you as a good person, they may intend to take advantage of you in the next step.
Tales from the Dyslexic Side: Part 3
Reading slowly and missing out on the meaning aren’t the only problems for dyslexics at school. We also try hard, making a huge effort only to end up with a chaotic mess. Even before I was allowed to use pens and let loose with bottles of ink (I still can’t believe they let primary schools kids use fountain pens), my school work was always a mess; my exercise books were a spaghetti junction of crossings out and smudges where some words floated off the lines and others sank beneath them. There was no uniformity of letter size from the beginning to end of a word and the whole thing was a battleground of arrows showing where certain letters had been inserted too late.
My Hair Loss Journey
I was first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I in 2005 at the age of twenty-five. From 2014 to 2018, I was hospitalized five different times. That's basically like experiencing the same trauma over and over again. You are not magically better when you leave the hospital. The real work starts afterward when you have to pick up the pieces of your life again. I kept dropping my pieces, and it turned into the most stressful time of my life.
Scissors, Glue & a Shattered Heart
I had no idea how much a pair of scissors, a bottle of glue and a bit of creativity could help heal a shattered heart ... until the days following January 20, 2021.
In the corner of my backyard out of view from the house, I have a ring of black stones that forms an imaginary well. Like a character from a Murakami novel, I often imagine climbing down to the dark bottom of that well, where I find all sorts of other spaces: caverns, chambers, libraries, and laboratories, as well as entire imaginary landscapes, usually beaches or lakesides, sometimes a yawning abyss. It feels like there is an entire cosmos down there, big enough to swallow galaxies like raindrops. The goal of this idle reverie is the Delphic maxim, “know thyself,” and we understand ourselves with metaphors of space.
A Mother's Journey
Nina stared deeply and fervently into the peaceful sea that served as an escape from the peeling walls and rusting pipes that defined the atmosphere of the room in which she was locked. Within the rustic frame, the painting of the ship on the horizon continued to slowly degrade in the moist air that encapsulated the room, it felt like the oxygen was being pilfered in an attempt to get her to break. Nina raced to the door to make it be known that she was still angry, banging on the creaky wooden door that slowly conceded to her force and pushed forward with a mighty groan.
I see Dirt.
I see dirty everywhere I look. Not to the point that it stops my life or forces me to wear gloves everywhere I go, but it does affect me somehow. The most notable is at the dinner table, where I cannot sit through a meal without having some kind of towel or napkin near me so I can clean my hands between every bite. I hate the feeling of leftover grease on my hands after I pick up a burger or fry or the crumbs that gather around the crevice of my mouth after a mouthful. It is unbearable.
Men do not cry!
''Are you crying? No you should not cry! Men do not cry! Oh my god, you are so weak! I am embarrassed to be related to you!" Now I have a question, did the term vulnerability originate with a specific gender or we assigned it with one? I am pretty sure you and I, and many of us are quite familiar with the statements given above, and if I talk about my personal experience lets just say I hear it on an everyday basis. Not only that, but also people around us make it seem like crying is only meant for women, you know it is almost like using a ladies restroom where if by chance a man enters, because there was an emergency, he is shamed for the rest of his life. Crying is the same. Our society has established this notion that crying should only be limited to women and men should always carry a bold and a brooding look on their faces, which in their opinion makes them look stronger. I'd rather say not. Nobody is born with this notion that emotions are gender oriented and only if a certain gender is making use of it, the others should be despised. It is almost like admissions should only be limited to a certain group of individuals, and everyone else should be precisely ignored. It does sound illogical right? When we repeat a certain set of behaviors for prolonged periods of time, it becomes a habit, that is in the words of Ivan Pavlov, individuals becomes conditioned to react or behave in a certain way, when exposed to the stimulus. Similarly, we tell young boys not to cry in a situation of crisis, no matter how bad, as in the words of an orthodox person who fail to change their opinions, "BOYS DON'T CRY! YOU ARE NOT A GIRL!"