recovery
Your illness does not define you. It's your resolve to recover that does.
Quitting Alcohol Made Me Realize I Don’t Know How To Live
Life is like the ocean, it’s unpredictable, unforgiving, and cannot be controlled. There are also sharks. Trying to control everything in life is like swimming against the tide. A lot of effort is exerted but you get nowhere; just wet, tired, and in pain.
By Patrick Meowler2 years ago in Psyche
Brief moment of connection
My body is aching for healing. I need help, help to see how to get through the darkness. I’m searching but I just can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. I feel like I’m seeking for the keys to my success inside a pitch black room, desperately clutching at objects trying to find my way out. I feel like I’ve fallen into a hole and have no means to get out. I have lost my voice and lost myself. I need someone to come and help me out of here.
By Mia Watanabe2 years ago in Psyche
When Suicide Became A Real Threat For Me. Content Warning.
I’ve struggled with suicidal ideations for a long time, probably most of my adult life, but it was never a real threat. I didn’t have a plan and I didn’t have any real intentions of doing anything. They were just thoughts and I was able to drown them with alcohol.
By Patrick Meowler2 years ago in Psyche
The Day She Chose to See
It was a regular Thursday morning when I saw her again—the lady with the kind eyes who always smiled. I didn’t know her name, but she was always there, sitting in her favorite spot at the park bench across from the coffee shop where I work. She had this calm presence about her, something comforting, like the gentle breeze that brushed my face when I watched her from the window.
By Lacey Morgan2 years ago in Psyche
I Had To Touch Death’s Door To Realize I Didn’t Want To Die. Content Warning.
For the longest time, I wanted to die. The depression and anxiety, combined with over a decade of alcoholism and addiction had led me to a point I considered as the point of no return.
By Patrick Meowler2 years ago in Psyche
The Journey. Top Story - September 2024.
I had a long week at work. I just started a new job, and was surrounded by new faces. This company had their cliques, and I definitely didn't feel like I fit into any of them. I had just left a two year long amazing relationship. Well year and half long, the last six months not so much. I really thought he might be the one this time, he was so different from the rest. Fucking drugs got in the way. Not to mention the stress of just losing the motor in my car, which I had just bought from a used lot about 4 months before. I was proud, because it was the first car I had actually got on my own. Didn't last long though, was warned too late it was a shady dealership. I had just tripled my rent by moving out of my ex's, and of course, chose those wrong insurance plan. So I was screwed. So onto the bus I went. I hated it, getting up two hours earlier just to make it to work on time, and getting home two hours later just to go to bed, wake up, and repeat. I became bitter and resentful toward life. I felt like I got the short end of the stick. It was the last day of work that week, I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I didn't know if I could take it. “Maybe I should just relapse too…” I thought. At least I could feel numb inside instead of just dead. I was sitting on the Trax when that thought crossed my mind, headphones blasting, trying to tune out the rest of the world. That's when she got on, and came and sat across from me. She had short shoulder length brown hair, it was dirty and ratted. She was wearing a torn sundress, I believe it was sky blue. One strap falling off her shoulder. Held securely between both hands was a small plastic cup, the kind you get from a gas station. And in it was a single daisy. I looked down at her feet, she was wearing two different shoes, both obviously way too small. So small she had to push the backs down just for them to fit. I noticed the people around me glaring at her with disgust. And suddenly I felt a part of me start to judge her too for how she looked, and I wanted to criticize her for not taking better care of herself. But before I could I just happened to look up and glance at her face, and it shook me inside. There she was, clearly homeless and un-showered. Mismatched shoes, and a yard picked flower in a cheap plastic cup. What hit me though was her smile. She looked content, dare I say at peace… It would have been more gentle had she used her own palm to slap me in the face. What the fuck was I on about? Was I really being so sorry for myself that I forgot what it feels like to really struggle? Had I become so full of myself and what I was building, that when I lost it all I became bitter , instead of having gratitude for what I did still have? A stable paycheck? A roof? A fridge full of food? Clothing that I was able to buy for myself…? My eyes started to tear, and she looked at me with concern. All I could spit out was, “That's a beautiful flower. “ Her face filled with joy, and she hugged the cup, simply saying “Thank you.” I couldn't stop staring at her shoes. I was wearing a brand new pair I had just got for work, since my old ones started to wear. I looked back and forth at our feet and a giggle escaped me. I was so ridiculous… Right before my stop I started untying the laces of my new black and rose gold Pumas. I slipped them off and asked, “Wanna trade?” She seemed hesitant at first, but when I assured her I had another pair at home, she took them in her hand and slipped them on. They fit. And she was glowing… I held back my tears as my stop came up. I was newly born walking in the mismatched, too small shoes. Yet, for a moment, when I noticed the people around me starting, I almost cared. That's when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and there she was, handing me her daisy. I think a mutual kindness was shared that day. She hurried back on the Trax, and I never saw her again.
By Tressa Rose2 years ago in Psyche
Balancing Work and Family: How Working Parents Can Spend Quality Time with Their Children
Professionals with childrearing responsibilities often struggle to juggle work and home lives of their families. Work commitments such as meetings, projects, or daily tasks may hinder them from engaging in meaningful conversations with their offspring. Yet such interactions are cardinal for the healthy growth of any child as well as understanding within themselves. This article offers an insight into how to maximize the time spent with children by parents who work and also help in educating them.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıran2 years ago in Psyche
Keep My Treasure Safe
Meeting my best friend was like two souls recognizing each other from a past life. The moment we met, you never would have known that we didn't grow up together. It was an instant connection of loud laughter and conversations that lasted well into the night. Looking at us, we were polar opposites; her dressed in black at all times, myself dressed head to toe in pink, the angriest highlighter you'd ever met. We met on a cold winter night in December, and by January, I was living in her apartment, partying and using together, working illicit jobs to pay the bills and keep ourselves high.
By Autumn Stew2 years ago in Psyche
