family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
My Mother's Voice
I'll never forget my mother's last words to me right before she walked away and into the bathroom where she pulled the trigger on the .45 I had often seen my stepfather put to her head. She said, "How could you?" and walked away. The only other time I can recall my mother speaking directly to me was when she finally decided to leave my stepfather and we drove from CA to CO where my grandmother lived. We were on the highway listening to the radio when the song, "Yummy, yummy, yummy, I got love in my tummy and I feel like loving you," played and my mother sang it to me. It's the only time I remember my mother telling me that she loved me. By the time we arrived in Colorado my stepfather had already called my grandmother and threatened to kill every one of my family members if my mother didn't come back to him immediately.
By LiteUp MyLife4 years ago in Psyche
The Ego
At one point in the summer of 2012, I found myself lying on an old, torn up green couch in the living room of my friend’s shadowy apartment. Six or seven people I knew meandered about the room, dragging their feet as slow as their words and having conversations and arguments about absolutely nothing. Lying there, half of my face buried in the warmish cushion I remember moving my eyes toward a heavy curtain hung in front of a sliding glass door that led to a small patio, and staring at a pin hole that let a perfect streak of sunlight pierce itself on to the carpet. As I watched a small brown spider walk through the beam and then slowly disappear, I couldn’t help but relate to him in a way; Walking in circles, maybe never having known that there exists a far bigger world not a few feet away from him, yet remaining either too weak to truly attempt an escape or too fearful of the warmth of the sun, we both remained meekly incarcerated.
By Harper Riley4 years ago in Psyche
Joy of Darkness
Dear Pamela Joy, First off, I would like to say Thank You! for being You, and I love you. I want to be very clear, so that you are aware that I am not expressing my gratitude towards you because of your kind and loving ways. Nor am I giving thanks for your impressive sense of humor and quick wits. I have no desire to remind you of your stunning superficial beauty, or how impressive you are with the many talents you possess. You do set the bar quite high when referring to those characteristics.
By Phalan Lowry4 years ago in Psyche
Dear MJ
Dear MJ, I hope one day you come across this letter and it brings a smile to the face that you have passed down to your nephew. I hope that sometimes when I cross your mind, you smile and are proud of what has come to pass. I want you to know that I understand and I am proud of you for walking away and choosing your own peace over all others. To me you will always be the keeper of the trains and the little brother who ran into our room at night.
By brooke vecchi4 years ago in Psyche
Little Girl Lost
Once upon a time, there was a girl whose spirit had come to earth. Her heart was golden, but there was a high gate around it. Occasionally she would peek out timidly. But mostly she would hide, in her own little world. She was curious about the world outside, but also deeply afraid.
By Bridget Vaughn4 years ago in Psyche
Old Man Winter
Barry was on the path he had walked since he was a kid. He knew it like the back of his hand, even though it was covered in an entire season’s worth of snow. He taught his grandchildren the way of the path the season before. Left at the tree that was shaped like a dragon. Right at the boulder that nearly crushed his brother ages ago. Follow the trail of raspberry bushes that lined both the left and the right lane. They haven’t changed in his nine decades of life. If his father was still alive, he would still be able to get around just fine.
By Alexa Calliguri4 years ago in Psyche
Memoirs of TD: Life Congealed
Her life still haunts me after 21 years. It’s a sad story of poverty, incest, love, lack of love, homelessness, and depression. Children can overcome and become successful through those circumstances but sometimes, your life is damned whether you do or don’t. I didn’t have the perfect life. Both of my parents were alcoholics and parental supervision for me was sometimes watching myself. But her life, her life was created out of a nightmare. Doomed the moment she entered the world and took her first breath.
By Tii Danjel4 years ago in Psyche
A Love Letter to My Narcissistic Mother
The day I found my mother’s psychiatric medication is a day that saved my life. Sneaking into my mother’s bedroom had always been a sin, but it became a capital crime after my father left. Weeks after his car had peeled out of the driveway — gravel ricocheting in its wake — she had slammed the door shut to that doomed room and pointed her finger in my face.
By E.B. Johnson 4 years ago in Psyche
Letter to my Lindes
Dear Linde, I would not have been a good mom, I was too fucked up to think about anything but myself for my childbearing and rearing years. Moms have the hardest job in the world and the world decided to have mercy on me and my unborn children. I would have loved them fiercely, but, you see, I didn’t love myself enough to love another being as deeply as a child deserves.
By Linden Griffith4 years ago in Psyche
