stigma

People with mental illness represent one of the most deeply stigmatized groups in our culture. Learn more about it here.

Please, Someone See Me
Thank you for opening and reading this. Every single read means the world to me. Each time someone clicks and reads, I know someone out there heard my story, my thoughts, my heart. As a new writer on Vocal, I’m deeply grateful to every person who gives my words a chance.
By Aarvi nilliabout a year ago in Psyche
What Meta And AI Fundamentally Misunderstand About Loneliness And Therapy
Mark Zuckerberg has recently talked about the Future he Envisions. A Future that makes me Fundamentally Sick because of its Dystopian Consequences.
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHMabout a year ago in Psyche
HPV and Long-Term Relationships: What Every Woman Should Know
Human papillomavirus (HPV) is often misunderstood, especially in the context of committed relationships. Many women in long-term partnerships or marriages are taken by surprise when diagnosed with HPV, prompting feelings of confusion, fear, and even guilt. But here’s the truth: HPV doesn’t discriminate based on relationship status, and its presence doesn’t automatically point to recent infidelity or neglect.
By Shameless Pathabout a year ago in Psyche
Tragedy, Tribulations, and Finding Peace Within Myself . Content Warning.
Greetings, Vocal readers. Before I begin, I want to say thanks to the wonderful team on Vocal for selecting my story as on of the Top Stories of May. I'll have a link to that story down below if you would like to read it. For this story, I want to be open and honest about, and in detail, about my devastating lows and numerous suicide attempts. It's an uncomfortable topic to discuss, but I believe by being transparent about what I've gone through mentally, it might encourage someone to seek professional help. In my previous stories on Vocal, I've been frank about my mental health struggles. We should have difficult, yet necessary conversations about mental health. It will show that people are honest and genuine about their feelings. In fact, we should normalize being open about our struggles, not have it suppressed. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in February 2012, but had been experiencing those feelings since I was 19.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard about a year ago in Psyche
The Last Door Left Open
The storm hit Greenwood at 11:07 p.m.—not that anyone had expected it. No warnings, no thunderclouds on the horizon. Just a sudden clap of thunder, a downpour like crashing glass, and then the lights went out. All of them. Mara held her breath as the blackout swallowed her neighborhood. The candles on her windowsill barely cast shadows in the room, flickering against old wallpaper that seemed to breathe with the wind. She had never liked the rain. It reminded her of that night, fifteen years ago, when her older brother Ethan vanished without a trace. She was only nine. He was sixteen. One moment they were laughing at an old horror movie—next, he was gone. No note. No struggle. Just an open back door and an unnatural silence. The police searched for months. Her parents eventually moved away. Mara stayed. Because she never believed Ethan had just "disappeared." And because she knew the house was hiding something. Tonight, she was certain it was ready to speak. The house had belonged to the Wren family for four generations. A creaking, crooked Victorian on the edge of the woods, with too many rooms and too many secrets. Since Mara inherited it at twenty-one, she’d become used to its moods: the shiver of its pipes, the groan of its stairs, the whispers it made late at night when no one else was around. But tonight was different. It was the door. The one she swore had never been there before. It sat at the end of the third-floor hallway—black, warped with age, and etched with a strange spiral symbol at eye level. A symbol she'd seen before. In Ethan’s journal. The one she wasn’t supposed to find. She didn’t remember falling asleep earlier, but she woke up to the sound: a slow, hollow creaking, like someone opening a heavy chest—or a very old door. Candle in hand, she climbed the stairs. The hallway was colder than the rest of the house. A chill licked her spine. The walls were tight here, the ceiling lower. The door was ajar. Just slightly. Just enough. Mara swallowed hard. “Ethan?” she whispered, not sure why she said it, or why she expected an answer. None came. She pushed the door open. It didn’t lead to a room. It led to a staircase. Descending, impossibly, into darkness. There was no part of the house blueprint with a basement below the third floor. She’d checked. Many times. But here it was: a narrow stone staircase disappearing into the earth. She lit a second candle and stepped inside. The air smelled old—older than dust. Like forgotten time. The flame wavered violently with every step, but Mara kept going. The stairs went down for much longer than seemed possible. Then, suddenly, they ended. She stood in a circular stone chamber. The walls were lined with shelves. Books. Bottles. Bones. In the center: a pedestal. On it lay a leather-bound book—Ethan’s journal. No dust on it. Fresh. Mara reached out slowly, hands trembling. As her fingers brushed the cover, a sound stirred behind her—like fabric shifting over stone. She spun around. There he was. Ethan. Or something that looked like Ethan. His face was thinner, gaunter, and his eyes were too wide, too dark. But it was him. “Hello, Mara,” he said. She dropped the candle. It rolled and sputtered but didn’t go out. “Ethan? What... how are you here?” He smiled. “I never left.” “What is this place?” “A door,” he said simply. “One that should have stayed closed.” He stepped closer. His movements were slow, deliberate, and his feet didn’t quite touch the ground. “I went looking,” he said. “I heard the whispers. I followed them. I thought it was just the house. But it was more than that. It called to me.” Mara shook her head, stepping back. “You disappeared. We thought—” “I did disappear,” he said. “This place... it doesn’t follow our time. It kept me. Showed me things. Things humans weren’t meant to see.” “Then why are you here now?” “Because the door opened again. You opened it.” “No. It was already—” He raised a hand, silencing her. “The door chooses when to open. And to whom. Just like it chose me. Now, it’s chosen you.” Mara backed toward the stairs. “I’m not staying.” Ethan’s smile faded. “You don’t get to decide that.” Suddenly, a loud grinding sound filled the chamber. The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut. Mara ran, heart hammering, but when she reached the top, the door was gone. Not closed. Gone. Just stone wall where the exit had been. She turned and screamed. Ethan stood inches away. But his face was different now—melting, warping. One eye slid too low. His voice was a chorus when he spoke, a sound that didn’t belong in this world. “Welcome home, sister.” Three Days Later The storm cleared. Sunlight touched Greenwood again. The neighbors thought it odd when Mara's lights never came back on. Eventually, the police were called. They searched the house. Everything seemed normal—until they reached the third floor. At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly open. None of them remembered it being there before. One officer, a young man fresh out of academy, peered inside. He saw only darkness. Heard only whispers. The kind that say your name. And behind him, the last door slowly creaked... closed.
By M.SUDAIS about a year ago in Psyche
Seven Myths About Mental Illness
People living with mental illness experience stigma everywhere. We are often faced with stigma at home, in the workplace, at school, in hospitals and doctors offices, and in public settings. People living with mental illness struggle with discrimination in a world that is largely still unaccepting of mental illness diagnoses, even today.
By Slgtlyscatt3redabout a year ago in Psyche
The Mask
I've always known I was different. Not in the quirky “main character” way others like to romanticize. More like, everyone else got a script for being human, and mine got lost in the mail. Or shredded. Or never existed.
By Jaci about a year ago in Psyche
My Brother Wasn't Crazy—He Was Just Seeing What We Couldn't.
My Brother Wasn't Crazy—He Was Just Seeing What We Couldn't People whispered about my brother. The kind of whispers that are accompanied by sideways glances and half-smiles.
By Get Richabout a year ago in Psyche
Grief is the Mirror for Beauty. Content Warning.
This Isn’t a Healing Guide This isn’t a feel-good story riddled with toxic positivity and advice on how you should buckle up your bootstraps and get over it when you’ve suffered a great loss. Neither is it a tale of a rushed urge to heal and stop feeling pain. This story doesn’t offer any expectations or pressure – it is merely my lived experience. The unexpected moments where past wounds were surfaced long after my loss. The instances where I started to feel joy again – and the guilt that accompanied it. The paradox of feeling heartbreak and peace at once and not only being okay with that, but realizing it was the unlock to my ultimate happiness.
By Vanta Luminaabout a year ago in Psyche
The Hidden Psychology of Connection
In a world more digitally connected than ever, loneliness is paradoxically thriving. As we scroll through social media feeds and interact with AI companions, we find ourselves surrounded by virtual connections that, in reality, leave us feeling more isolated than before. Eric Solomon, Ph.D., explores this paradox and reveals how the very tools meant to keep us connected might be deepening our sense of isolation. The Paradox of Digital Connection Loneliness is not a new phenomenon, but it has evolved alongside our technological advances. With smartphones, social media, and now AI companions, we have access to constant streams of communication. Yet, despite the illusion of constant connection, many of us feel more isolated than ever. This paradox becomes strikingly clear when we look around in public spaces like New York’s Union Square. People, once engaged in face-to-face conversation, are now engrossed in their phones, disconnected from the world around them. The same technology that promised to bridge the gap between us seems to have only widened it. As Solomon points out, the rise of AI chatbots and virtual assistants, like ChatGPT, reflects a new attempt to address this loneliness. These tools can simulate emotional availability, offering comfort and companionship. However, while they provide solace, they do so without reciprocity. The lack of genuine human interaction makes these digital companions seem comforting at first, but over time, they can leave us feeling even emptier and more disconnected. How Loneliness Affects Our Brain Understanding the psychological impact of loneliness is crucial. Our brains are wired for real, emotionally attuned connections. Attachment theory tells us that from birth, we crave secure relationships, and these connections are essential for our emotional and psychological well-being. But in today’s world, much of our interaction is mediated through screens, and these interactions are often brief, shallow, and performative. The result? We enter an insecure attachment loop. As we feel more isolated, we withdraw further, making it harder to trust others and open ourselves to vulnerability. This isolation becomes a vicious cycle: the lonelier we feel, the more difficult it becomes to connect, leading to even deeper isolation. The Role of Technology in Deepening Isolation Technology, though not entirely to blame, plays a significant role in exacerbating this issue. AI companions, while appearing to fulfill emotional needs, do not offer real connection. Our nervous systems, tricked into believing that these virtual interactions provide the warmth and understanding we seek, end up reinforcing our sense of emptiness. Studies have shown that those who rely heavily on chatbots for emotional support often experience greater loneliness and fewer meaningful real-life interactions. The very tools we turn to for comfort—smartphones, social media, and AI—are intensifying the loneliness they are meant to alleviate. The Collapse of Flourishing A recent Global Flourishing Study, involving over 200,000 people from more than 20 countries, reveals a disturbing trend: young adults—especially those aged 18 to 29—are struggling with mental, emotional, and social well-being. Unlike previous generations, their well-being doesn’t improve as they age. Instead, it remains stagnant, or even worsens, leading to what researchers call "the collapse of flourishing." In many parts of the world, the happiness curve that typically dips in midlife and then rises in later years has flattened entirely for this age group. The problem is not just that they are alone, as Robert Putnam’s seminal work "Bowling Alone" suggested. It’s that many young people aren't participating in social activities at all. The shift towards productivity, comparison, and digital engagement has undermined the sense of community and connection that once served as a foundation for well-being. Breaking the Cycle of Isolation So, what can we do about it? The first step is recognizing that digital detoxes won’t solve the problem. Shaming ourselves for spending too much time on our phones or social media may feel like a solution, but it’s only a temporary fix. Real change begins with acknowledging the root cause of our loneliness: the breakdown of genuine, secure human connections. Solomon emphasizes that loneliness is not simply a feeling but a neurological and behavioral issue. The more we isolate ourselves, the more our brains adapt to this isolation, making it harder to connect with others. However, there is hope. Small, consistent acts of human connection can help rewire our nervous systems. Reaching out to someone for a real conversation, attending social gatherings, or simply taking the time to be present with others can help rebuild trust and emotional resilience. The Importance of Human Connection In a world where technology is advancing faster than our ability to process its impact on our mental health, it’s easy to overlook the power of genuine human connection. While AI and digital tools can provide temporary comfort, they cannot replace the deep, meaningful bonds that come from real-life interactions. Even as technology continues to shape our lives, we must remember that true flourishing is rooted in connection with others. It’s not enough to have endless digital interactions or AI companions. We need to rebuild the emotional infrastructure of our lives—one that values vulnerability, trust, and real-time, face-to-face interactions. By doing so, we can begin to heal the psychological wounds that loneliness has inflicted on us. Conclusion As we navigate the complexities of the digital age, the challenge of loneliness looms larger than ever. Yet, as Eric Solomon’s insights reveal, there is a path forward. It may require stepping away from the digital world, even if just for a moment, to engage in the raw, imperfect, and beautiful connections that make us human. In these moments, we can find the antidote to loneliness—a deep sense of belonging that no screen or chatbot can ever replicate.
By SophiaSosoabout a year ago in Psyche
The Silent Struggle: Understanding Suicide and the Importance of Mental Health
Suicide is a topic that is often wrapped in silence, stigma and shame to avoid and discuss many. But it is a reality that affects the lives of millions of people each year, and understanding of causes, warning signs and support helps help cope with this growing crisis. Suicide is a complex topic that involves not only the outcome of a person's personal struggles, but also mental, emotional, social and ecological factors. This story explores how important it is to understand suicide, the mental health crisis that is coming, and how we can work together to save lives. Every year, millions of people around the world fight with the idea of suicide. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), approximately 700,000 people die from suicide every year. This is a person every 0 seconds. Many other difficult challenges in mental health in the battle of silence for everyone who dies from suicide. These people are often invisible, their pain is hidden beneath the layers of everyday life, hidden in the façade of normalcy.
By Abrar Siddikabout a year ago in Psyche
Staring In the Eyes of Death
I've been advised by Chat to offer the following disclaimer: Disclaimer: This memoir reflects the author’s personal recollections, interpretations, and emotional truth. Names and identifying details have been changed or omitted to protect privacy. Some events may be presented through the lens of memory and trauma and are not intended as factual accusations or statements of law.
By Tom Bakerabout a year ago in Psyche