stigma
People with mental illness represent one of the most deeply stigmatized groups in our culture. Learn more about it here.
"You don't look sick"
If people can't see evidence of something they often deny it. Case in point, those of us who aren't sure there are omnipotent gods watching over us. But what happens when that same concept of "seeing is believing" is applied to people you know?
Pix-E-Dust DigitalPublished 3 years ago in PsycheStigmatised types of OCD that you should know about
When we talk about OCD, shortened from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, what first comes to your mind? Well, this is all dependant on whether you have experience in dealing with the disorder yourself, or know people that do.
A Day in a Life of Someone Living with Schizoaffective Disorder
I am about to explain my day to day life with schizoaffective disorder. Honestly, my life is no different than anyone else other then when I am not doing well (meaning I am off my medicine or I have a new chemical imbalance in my brain from a stressful life change)
Megan Rae LedyitPublished 3 years ago in PsycheThe World Needs More "Hope"
The world needs more "Hope." Our stories will end differently when the world starts treating the opioid pandemic with the same seriousness as this coronavirus.
Sandra RadfordPublished 3 years ago in PsycheHope's Hope
The world needs more "Hope." Our stories will end differently when the world starts treating the opiod pandemic with the same seriousness as this coronavirus.
Sandra RadfordPublished 3 years ago in PsycheQuestions
If god (who I don’t believe in) created humans why are we so easily broken? How can our brains be wired differently we are all made the same way?
collette_23Published 3 years ago in PsycheI Have Asperger's
I have Asperger’s. Better explained as a form of autism that makes you speak out of turn or about trains or unicorns or whatever peaks their interest. Usually, there is one interest that really makes someone with autism really entertained. Mine has always been psychology or cures of some sort, I like to fix people or make them see the best in themselves. Doesn’t seem bad right…well you’re wrong. I go to the absolute extreme meaning I date people to fix them or I find friends that need fixing. Most of my friends at one point needed help fixing themselves or had something wrong with them that I could somehow help with.
Alex MoranPublished 3 years ago in PsycheThe problem with mental illness
The problem with mental illness is that there is more misunderstanding than ever surrounding what mental illness actually is.
Skye BothmaPublished 4 years ago in PsycheDerailed.
It was harder to finish this than I thought. When I sat to write my first post the words just seemed to flow naturally. Now today, I’m back at my apartment, and the amount of support I’ve had from people around me has been inspiring. So many have shared their own struggles, or just reached out with words of encouragement.
I'm not Illiterate. I just have a few mental illnesses...
I remember the end of pre-K right before entering elementary school vividly; the last day of class my parents picked me and my belongings from the year up at the school I was attending. (A very rare event, personally, for me, normally my parents reaped public school's transportation to save gas.) Nonetheless, this day was different. I was excused early because it was our last day as a class, and I was moving on to a different school in a district far from my peers. Being young this was disheartening but not for the average "I'll miss my friends" reason.
Abbán DodgePublished 4 years ago in PsycheThe Stigmas of Mental Health
I am going to educate you a little on the basics of mental health so you can be aware of those around you-- I hope to persuade you to think before you speak, because you never know who around you is fighting the invisible battle of living with a mental health issue.
Clara ReinkePublished 4 years ago in PsycheThe Truth About Behavior Health Floors.
I was 21. I wasn’t new to the process but this was a first for me. The double doors closed and locked as I watched my mother who had just traveled an hour and a half as fast as she could to ease me in. It didn’t matter. I cried out the tiny windows of the double locked doors as if this was it. This was how it was going to end. I would never come back from this. Next, I was wheeled to my room. White as a ghost the formalities blended together like that first time you feel grief when you lose a loved one for the first time. I sat in the exam room. I watched the needle go into my arm for a blood draw but I never felt a thing. Blank. I could feel my eyes swelling with tears that I didn’t understand. Who was I? What had my life come to that I was locked on this hospital floor unsafe to be alone? The rooms were cold. When did I get this bad? Why? I laid down on the hard mattress with blankets that felt and smelt like cardboard. All I could think about what the fact I had become a visitor in my own body, in my own brain. I closed my eyes and wished this to go away, forever.
Emily Noonan-PhillipsPublished 4 years ago in Psyche