eating
Dispel judgement, debunk the myths and correct the misconceptions you hold about eating disorders.
"The Interpretation of Dreams" by Sigmund Freud: A Journey into the Unconscious Mind
"The Interpretation of Dreams" by Sigmund Freud: A Journey into the Unconscious Mind "The Interpretation of Dreams" is not just a book; it is the foundation of modern psychology and a journey into the mysterious world of the unconscious. First published in 1899, this book revolutionized our understanding of dreams. Dreams are no longer seen as random or meaningless images; instead, they are glimpses into our hidden desires, fears, and experiences. Freud's writing is a blend of science, philosophy, and personal discovery. This book explains how dreams are formed, their connection to the unconscious mind, and how they reveal hidden truths through symbols. Although it can be challenging, for those interested in understanding the human mind, it is a feast for the intellect.
By Ikram Ullahabout a year ago in Psyche
The Difficulty Of Freedom
In the US, many people Celebrate today as a Day of Freedom from Tyranny. Now, if you go into the History of the US, there are Challenges that Exist, and some may say this is not accurate, or that it is a day about the "Possibility" of Freedom.
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHMabout a year ago in Psyche
The Sewing Box
The box had been there for years — untouched, unspoken, and always in the same corner of Nana’s old attic. Covered in lace that had long since yellowed, it waited like a quiet witness. When Nana passed away that winter, I returned home after seven years to settle her affairs — not entirely ready for what I would find. I hadn’t been back since I was sixteen. Back then, I ran away more than I visited. Back then, Nana was already growing forgetful, calling me by my mother’s name, or sometimes by her own sister’s. But she never forgot about the sewing box. She’d always say, “Don’t touch it, Isla. That’s not for you — not yet.” -- The funeral was small. Nana never had many friends left. It was just me, the priest, and the mailwoman who brought her groceries during her final years. The house felt too quiet when I returned — like it had been waiting just for me. I slept in the guest room that night, but I didn’t really sleep. I kept thinking of the sewing box. It wasn’t just nostalgia. Something about it tugged at me — like it had its own heartbeat. -The attic The next morning, I climbed the attic stairs, flashlight in hand. The switch hadn’t worked in years. The air was thick with dust and lavender. Nana always loved lavender. It masked the scent of mothballs and age. I walked past old suitcases, brittle magazines, faded photographs with crinkled edges. And there it was — in the far left corner, exactly where I remembered. The sewing box. It was a faded green, with golden thread-like trim and a broken hinge. A cracked ceramic bird perched on top, its wing chipped. I sat cross-legged in front of it, just like I used to. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. Inside, there were spools of thread, needles, buttons in little paper envelopes. But underneath, tucked beneath a swatch of blue satin, was something else. Letters. Dozens of them, tied with red ribbon, yellowed with age. The top one had my mother’s name — Claire. My heart thumped against my ribs. I opened the first letter. Dear Claire, I know you won’t understand now, but I hope one day you will forgive me. I didn’t have a choice. You were only a baby when he left, and I couldn’t risk it — not again. I had to keep you safe. Nobody believed me back then, but he wasn’t who he said he was. He wasn’t just “James from the library.” He had a darkness I didn’t see — not until it was too late. You have his eyes, you know. I hated them for years, but now… now I wonder if maybe you deserved to know. There’s more in this box than thread, darling. There are truths I never dared speak aloud. — Mother froze. James? My grandfather? I’d never heard anything about him. My mom rarely spoke of her childhood, and when she did, it was always about the happy things — summer at the lake, Sunday cakes, Nana’s lullabies. But not once had she mentioned her father. I read another letter. And then another. Each one was more detailed than the last. Each one filled with fear, and regret, and love twisted in grief. My Nana had been hiding the truth for decades. Not just from my mother — but from the world.
By Arshad khanabout a year ago in Psyche
The Silent Link: How Your Gut Talks to Your Brain. AI-Generated.
A Fog That Wouldn't Lift Sarah had everything most people dream of: a stable career in marketing, a warm circle of friends, and a small but cozy apartment in the heart of the city. She went to yoga twice a week, drank green smoothies, and always remembered to take her multivitamins.
By DR. Allama iqbalabout a year ago in Psyche
Eating to Fill the Void: When Mental Health Feeds the Mindless Hunger
Lately, I’ve been in a dip. The kind where brushing your teeth feels like too much. The kind where everything is overstimulating and silent at the same time. The kind where your body’s still moving, but your mind is somewhere under the blankets. Still. Fading. Cold.
By Briana Felicianoabout a year ago in Psyche
A Psychologically Healthy Morning Routine: Start Your Day with Mental Balance
Introduction In today’s fast-paced world, the way we begin our day has a profound impact on our mental health, emotional resilience, and productivity. A psychologically healthy morning routine can serve as a buffer against stress, enhance cognitive functioning, and promote emotional stability throughout the day. Rather than relying on willpower alone, structuring your morning based on psychological principles and neuroscience can help build a strong foundation for mental well-being.
By Siria De Simoneabout a year ago in Psyche
Breaking Free: My Journey Beyond Chronic Illness
Years of chronic illness were my constant companion. Beyond just diagnosis, chronic illness became more of a shadow that followed me around; whispering limitations, doubts and despair. Instead of just giving up jobs or plans; I had to give up who I once was as well. Today however, wellness is no longer just a dream but an established reality in my life.
By Robert Brownabout a year ago in Psyche
