recovery
Your illness does not define you. It's your resolve to recover that does.
A Survival Story
I’m awake. I’m here. My head is swimming. I’ve been sick all night. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened.
Allie StonePublished 6 years ago in PsycheWhat I've Learned: Four Days in the Mental Health Ward
"You're only sixteen, what makes your life so bad that you want to die?" The red, rough hospital gown scratched my knees; unshaved calves prickled my cracked palms. I kept my hair over my face as my nurse attempted to engage in the long dreaded conversation,
Suffering Mental Illness: Only the Beginning
A year or so ago, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, an eating disorder, and features of Borderline Personality Disorder. After going through psychological testing and receiving this diagnosis, it made sense to me, but at the same time when you read your diagnosis, you can't help but feel as if you are reading about someone different than yourself.
Emily McGrathPublished 6 years ago in PsycheTherapy : I's and i's
Something they fail to tell you once you first entire therapy is that recovery isn't linear. Its ups, downs, circles, reverses, and overlaps. When i first entered therapy, a picture was drawn for me on a straight line; start here, finish there. but after 7 years of hard sessions and fighting myself, I realized that this wasn't going away. It was apart of me permanently. Now, that doesn't necessarily imply a bad time per se. But i will always be different. Ill notice that that our boss wore that tie three times this week, (No Robert, three times. Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday.) I will always be hyper conscious of completely irrelevant things, (do my scars rub against his skin while we make love? Does it make him itch? ) And I'll probably always need extra reassurance. (I know I said sorry when i dropped the plate, but i didn't know if you knew I meant it.. so I kept going until you were sure. - ...are you sure you forgive me?)
Boldly Bipolar
This is the face of mental illness. There is nothing wrong with this picture at a glance. Pretty face. Well kept appearance.
Hannah WilsonPublished 6 years ago in PsycheSmoothie Girl
I don't belong here. I'm sick, not crazy. I squinted into the light as the girl, unknown to me except by her howls, thumped the floor. She rose from the ground, tore every pseudo-inspirational poster off the dank walls and hurled them towards me. "What are you doing here? Cause a pretty little white girl like you sure ain't in here for trying to kill your mama like me." I mumbled something indiscernible as she moved to her next victim. Three white-cloaked men appeared, shot a liquid into her backside, and dragged her away.
Anna BloomPublished 6 years ago in PsycheIt Gets Better Pt2
After having my boyfriend read the first part and explain to me that I focused too much on the bad, and not enough on the good side (and that the ending was so vague) I went back to review it and he was right. I told you guys it gets better but, I never explained how it got better, how I am now. I guess I expected you guys to read my other articles and piece it together. But here we go:
It Gets Better
Ever feel like nobody can relate to you? Like you're alone in this world? Like nothing you do matters? Feel as if the whole world hates you? And makes everything harder specifically for you? If so... you're not alone.
Diagnosis
Seven. Seven years old, and my first diagnosis appeared on my lap like an unwanted animal, begging for attention. I didn't know what ADHD was, or even if it was a real thing, and not just random letters in the alphabet. How was I to know that the reason for my constant "story telling," the way I always tapped my foot while the teacher was talking, or interrupting class just to say something that didn't even pertain to what was being taught, was my very own diagnosis?
Angel PeughPublished 6 years ago in PsycheHow Not to Die
When I was in my junior year of high school I started to be more anxious than usual. I began to have insomnia and since I was taking such hard classes and studying for my SATs I became very distant from myself and my needs. Eventually it got to a point where I would spend days without eating a proper meal or sleeping. I am only human, but in my obsession with being perfect I became so ill I was hospitalized for 10 days do to heart failure. My body gave up on me; the lack of food and sleep got me down to 84 pounds, which led to feeding tubes down my nose and painful needles everywhere. I didn’t want to accept it, I always thought this was just a coincidence and that I was fine, I just needed to get through the year and everything would go back to the way it was. However, as you can guess that wasn’t the case. I developed depression and became such a ghost of a person I stopped recognizing myself. This went on for over a year until it became so much for me I started to harm myself in many ways, no need to mention them, you can guess. I became obsessed with death and the peace I thought it would bring me. I planned it many times in my head, I even started leaving notes for my friends and family so they would have something to hold on to when I was no longer here. So, trust me when I say I know what it feels like to see no choice, no light whatsoever in the life you’re living. But take it from a survivor of such a horrible illness, you can make it through.
The Beginning of a Long Voyage
Overcoming mental illness is a process that affects every part of your life. It is a constant battle between the brain and the self. One of the worst aspects of this affliction is so often the brain and the self feel as though they are together on this horrible journey. The brain being such a powerful organ it can seemingly control every aspect of your life during mental illness. It feels as though the two are completely inseparable.
Denise KerryPublished 6 years ago in PsycheFighting the War on Depression & Anxiety: My Story
So let me set the scene. A few years ago I wasn't the person I am today, I used to have really bad bouts of anger, nothing helped! It was if I had no mental control over my emotions which then meant having no control over my physical self.
Ian McGarvaPublished 6 years ago in Psyche