coping
Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.
The Winged Rider.
He always rode late into the night, but this ride was different. As he looked forward it was bright, though it was the middle of the night. The road curved and glistened, as if it was made of gold. It was quiet, and he could hear the rustle of the leaves. On each side of the road we’re trees. Colors he had never seen before decorating the limbs.The bike he was just on, transformed. It had high handle bars and was black as night. The bike itself looked as though it was glowing! He had never seen anything dark somehow have a light reverberating from it. As he walked toward it, eager to ride he felt something tickle his back. As he turned to look for what had touched him he saw nothing. It happened again, confusion all over his face. Then he looked down toward his feet and there lied a single golden white feather. It seemed strange to him, because he saw no birds flying above him. He then looked over his shoulder, then he started to feel them. White and golden feathers adorned these massive beautiful wings. The most beautiful wings he had ever seen before. He shrugged his shoulders and he could move them! Like an arm or a leg. As he stretched them they felt heavy, but not too much to carry. Mae, I must be dreamin! He exclaimed. He leaped into the air, using his wings as if they had always been apart of him.
By Alaina Craft3 years ago in Psyche
The Complicated Experience of Opening Up
Questioning your diagnosis or thinking there may be more to the answer. Sometimes when I talk to my friends about their experiences, it feels like they finally got the answer they were looking for. As for me, I spent an extended part of my life trying to cope with depression and anxiety. While that still may be so, I still question. I wonder if there is more to the story. Like something is being ignored. It's a long journey but a complicated one.
By Norma Jane3 years ago in Psyche
Public Displays of Grief
I remember all the family was meeting at my grandma's house for a special occasion. Must have been a holiday or just a random Tuesday in the little town outside of Damascus where nightly family gatherings in the courtyard were the primary form of entertainment. A majority of the folks were outside but all of the women had congregated in one room and I wasn’t sure why. When I went to inspect, I saw Khalto (Auntie) sitting on a chair sobbing. Her eyes were crying so hard they seemed like they wanted to escape her head. All the other women gathered around, consoling her. Immediately I walked out of the room and started to joke with my cousin who was playing it off like her mother was being ridiculous. She herself was probably experiencing the same pangs of hurt but didn’t want to feel the blow at the moment since, after all, it was her younger brother who had died when she was just a kid. I later found out through some murmurings that on the walk over Khalto had seen a child run into the street and get hit by a car which sent her into a flashback of her own son getting hit and killed by a car nine years earlier. The pain was so raw, so ever present and there was no hiding it.
By Maesia Farah3 years ago in Psyche
Lost, and Six Months Alone
I, like most people, had one of the worst years imaginable in 2020. The pandemic is a given, naturally. But then I lost my sister, a beloved dog, and an Aunt in a matter of four months. I struggled with crippling depression throughout the year. Then a week shy of the anniversary of what I consider the start of the worst year ever (March 12th), and the day after I received my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine, my ex sat me down and broke up with me, then moved out the next day. So this year, 2021, hasn't been much better in many ways.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Psyche
Suicide, Not an Answer
I've thought about suicide more times than I can count and I've attempted it several times. Obviously I've never been successful with it but doesn't change the feeling I have of not wanting to be here anymore. I don't believe in an afterlife or religion, for that matter. I was raised by the Bible and went to church every Sunday. But traumatic events have opened my eyes that there's no such thing as God or an afterlife.
By LeAnn Murch3 years ago in Psyche
Tumbling Thoughts
As I write this, my mind is dashing from one idea to the next - "this is stupid, no one will read it" to "but I'm not writing it to be read, I'm writing to get it out" to "you're wasting time, you know you should be working" to "but I can't work when I can't think clearly, so I write."
By T. L. H. Auty3 years ago in Psyche